HIBIURY OF CONGRESS. # 

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^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 



a//, 0/0 /i 



T H R 



ADDISON REUNION 
PAPERS. 




COMPILED BY 



Dr. CHARLES BILLINGSLEA. 



BALTIMOKK; 

WM. -1. C. DI[JLAISrY& CO., PaKr.isirKus. 

1871, 



s€^« 



?^;i^ 



Entered according lo Act of Congress, in year 1871, by 
CHAS. BILLINGSLEA, 

l!i the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



^ 



TO THE MEMBERS AND FRIENDS 
OP THK 

^DDISON JflEUNION, 

THIS YOLXTIIE IS BESPEOTFXTLLY 

DEDICATED. 



COxNTENTS 



Page 

Inteoductokt, - 1 

To MBS. H. B. M. OF Cincinnati, - the late Rev. Josiah Vardeu o 

The Song of the Mountain Beook. - Rev. David Wilson, M.D. 7 

Stanzas, c, 

A Teibutk TO Maryland, B. 17. 

Albano: A Fkagment,' .... Thomas E. Van Bebber 19 

CKITIQXJE, r-g 

Lines Addeessed to the Poetess " Not a Bit," .... 82 

Welcome to June, ,j. t. W. S3 

OuK Little Queen Mrs.A.B. 84. 

A Visit to Western Maryland College, B. 85 

To a Young Lady, B. gg 

Old and Young in the Sanctuary. J. T. W. 89 

The Emigrant Wagon, .... Rev. David Wilson, M.D. 90 

A Christmas Paper, J. T. W. 92 

Give the Devil his Due. Everett 101 

Our Childhood Home, B. 134 . 

The Golden Wedding, J. T. W. 126 

A Fanpy Sketch, -q ^Ss . 

Acrostics, - - J. T. W. 130 

The Anointed Dove, Thomas E. Van Bebber 131 

Shelley, 133 

Visit to Camp, Thomas E. Van Bebber 141 

The Philosophy of Dress, Alix 143 

A Tribute to the Rev. Peter Light Wilson, - - - - b. 159- 

Febeuary 22d, J. T. W. 15C 

FeEEMASONEY, 157 

Snow AT Night, Thomas E. Van Bebber 166 

Lights and Shadoavs. B. 168" 

Who Stole Judge Parker's WIne ? Everett 171 

The Sabbath, J. T. W. 1S4 



VIU 



(jontoi t.s . 



Page 

Elizabeth Baeketx Bkowkixg, Ada IS') 

Thb LOTBKS' 'WnisPEEiNG Galleky UNDEE THE Ska, T. E. Van Bebber 192 

An Apology, B. 193 

Faith, Hope, Love, J.T. W, 195 

A Visit to Hakpee's Feebt, B. 196 

A Sonnet, - Thomas E. Van Bebber 201 

A Voice feom the " Second Stoey Feont," . - - - Alix 202 

An Incident in Real Life, - - - 311 

Miss Emma's Keply, - - - 214 

The Dootob's Defence, 217 

Lines Suggested by the Doctok^s Defence, 219 

A Visit to the Bikthplace of a Sctjlptoe, 221 

Aeiadne, Emma Alice Browne 243 

CHOLtTLA ; OB, THE Indian Sibyl, - - Thomas E. Van Bebber 246 

Closing Enteetainment, 249 



^he ^ddi$on '^mnimt ff^per^^ 



INTRODUCTORY. 

The friends "who may take this little volume, to 
peruse, we are sure will not be like one of the queer 
characters of our national " Budget of Fun," who does 
not "want to be introduced to people she does not 
know ; " but they would rather know all etiquette could 
ask about the contributors, and the Association under 
whose auspices the volume is published, so. that if in 
any of the wild flights of fancy of its infant Muses 
they find any Cynic matter, they will know that the 
Areopagus of the Abdison Reunion v/ill give the 
compkdnant a hearing. The name "which we have 
chosen for our "Club" (a dangerous word, but we 
mean limitation when we use it)^ namely, " Addison," 
speaks a volume for it to every searcher of -books or 
lover of the higher tones of thought and composition. 
We would not shatter expectancy by saying '*It is all 
a name," nor would we raise it high by promising that 
hope will receive full fruition. In appropriating the 
name of such an illustrious man, it was not to convey 
the idea of similar merit, but to show that our ambi- 
tion sought a high standard, which we would reach as 
near as possible with the comparative one talent. 

A short biographical sketch of Addison we give as 
a part of this Introductory. Joseph Addison, the 



2 Til e Addison Reu n i o n Fop e / .<? . 

eldest son of a learned clergyman, was born at his 
father's rectory of Milston, in Wiltshire, England, on 
the first day of May 1672. He was educated at the 
Charter House and at Oxford. He was distinguished 
in lyceums and in private circles as a writer of Latin 
verse. His- first appearance in print was in English 
verses, some of which were original, and others trans- 
lations from the classics to Dryden's Miscellanies, 
Political encouragement soon after induced him to 
write a poem complimenting King William on thei 
campaign in which he took Namur ! A pension, pro- 
cured for him by Lord Somers, enabled him in 1699. 
to visit the Continent, where he resided for three 
years, during which time he wrote one of the best 
of- his poems, a " Letter from Italy," and also his first 
extended prose work, "Travels in Italy," which ex- 
hibited his extensive knowledge, and his skill and live- 
liness in composition. His next poem, " The Campaign," 
a poem celebrating Marlborough's victory at Blenheim, 
was written soon After his return to England. It met 
with so much applause and popular favor that it 
secured him an appointment as the Commissioner of 
Appeal in Excise. From this he became Under-Secre-. 
tary of State, which of&ce he held for three years; 
then became Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant of 
Ireland, which was about a year and a half before the 
dismissal of the Ministry which he served. This 
brings us to about 1710, and he about 38 years of 
age, just the prime of his life. Deprived of office by the 
Opposition, he was left to seek his own employment! 
which proved to be the composition of his celebrated 
Periodical Ussays. The first of these jjapers were 
published in the *' Tatler," a paper conducted by his 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 3 

school-friend, Richard Steele. In 1711 these two 
writers commenced the " Spectator," which appeared 
every week-day till the 6th December 1712. After 
the cessation of the " Spectator," Steele began another 
paper entitled the " Guardian," which lasted about 
seven months, fifty-three of these papers being x^ddison's. 
In 1713 he brought on the stage his tragedy of *' Cato," 
which was rendered so immensely popular, partly 
through political considerations, as to raise his reputa- 
tion to its zenith. The accession of George I. in 1714 
restored the Whigs to power, and again diverted Addi- 
son from literature to politics. After acting as Secre- 
tary to the Regency, he yvsls made one of the Lords of 
Trade. 

In 1715 he married the Countess-Dowager of War- 
wick, by whose influence he was induced to become 
one of two principal Secretaries of State in 1717 ; but 
ill health caused him to resign eleven months after his 
appointment. He died at Holland House on the 17th 
June 1719. His body, after lying in state, was in- 
terred in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey. 
His soul we trust reached the eternal immortality he 
worked out for it, and left us as a record of his belief : 

" Tlie soul, secure in her existence, smiles 
At the drav/n dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ; 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the wa'r of elements, 
The wreck of matter and the. crash of worlds." 

We feel regret at the meagreness of the fact-matter 
relative to Addison's life that v/e have been able to 
give; glad, however, that we Jcnow he was born in 
that sweet English home, and lived to strike some of 



4 Th e Addison Re u n i o ii Pap ers. 

the sweetest chords of intellectual thought. The papers 
which compose this volume are truly ^' Crumbs Swept 
Up," and that too by neiv broo7ns. 

They are compositions prepared for the entertain- 
ment of the circle, and with no view to publication. 
We give them to the readers as pensioners upon 
charity, hoping if our Association should number years, 
the next offering will be radiant with greater merit. 



The Addison Reunion Papers, 



Tc Mrs. H. B. M., of Cincinnati, 



BY THE LATS EEY. JOSIAH VAEDEN. 

*' My r>eii is typical of my tongue, which runs on erer like 
woman's' tongue." — Extract from a private letter. 

** My running pen," you tell me then, 
Is typical of woman's tongue, 
Whose chimes resound the empty sound 
Of some old bell forever rung. 

No, sister, no ; not truly so : 
The sweetest bird that ever sung 

O'er opening bloom or closing tomb 
Was woman's tongue. 

An infant born to weep -and mourn, 
As helpless on her breast I hung, 

The lullaby that hushed my sigh 
Was woman's tongue. 

In boyhood bold, when uncontrolled 
My heart to wayward passions clung, 

Close at my side, to woo and guide, 
Was woman's tongue. 

In riper years, when worldly cares 

A shadow o'er my spirit flung, 
In time of need my friend indeed 

Was woman's tongue. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 

In slow decay, whicli wastes away 
The fainting flesh by sickness wrung, 

The surest balm to heal and calm. 
Was woman's tongue. 

Amid the strife of closing life, 
As an -^olian sweetly strung, 

Still may I hear in gentle prayer 
Fond woman's tongue. 

And when at last, like seasons past, 
This world is to oblivion flung. 

In bowers above shall coo that dove — 
Sweet woman's tongue. 



Tlie Addison Reunion Papers. 



THE SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BROOK. 

BY THE REV. DAVID WILSON, M. D. 

I GLIDE from the highest mountain peak, 

I glint 'mid the cloud-land shadows, 
I fall where the eagle wets his beak 

On the arid mountain meadows ; 
And away I murmur, and fall and splash, 

'Bove the snoYZ-line's lov/est border, 
And fall o'er the sentinel rock, and dash 

By the chamois, — only warder. 

And I pour my white foam' over the sides 

Of the mountain rocks, and under ; 
I glids along where the avalanche glides, 

Nor list to its awful thunder ; 
And down 'mid the echoing caverns deep, 

Near the source of silent fountains, 
I move along, as in quiet sleep. 

By the base of eternal mountains. 

And the^stars of heaven look down on me 

Through the blue where the clouds are riven, 
And smile asithey sail o'er the wide, wide gea. 

When the''^new,Jbright moon is risen ; 
And ever'I'm singing of fairy lands, 

And ever I'm murm'ring'of duty. 
And ever I'm rolling o'er silvery sands. 

And ever^J'm shining^'ingbeauty. 



The Addis 071 Reumon Paper 

All day, all night, I Eirg't-lie liymn 

I birf tla ited do^vn the ages ; 
What I sang to creation's seraphim, 

I'm oLanting to earth's sages ; 
And the cawing raven wheels his flight 

O'er the rocks where I tremble ever : 
I gircilB the hills with a silvery light, 

And a song which I sing forever. 



The Addison Reunion Faper 



STANZAS. 

Nestled in the curtained window, 

Little wife, with dewy -eyes 
Gazing on the dreary landscape, 

Gazing on the leaden skies — 
On the distant gray cathedral, 
. With its spire and sombre dome : 
Heart o'erflowing, pale lips murmuring, 

Husband, love, come home ! 

Flutt'ring at the open window, 

Happy wife with smiling eyes, 
In her hand a foreign letter, 

Overhead the glowing skies ; ~ 
Festive looks the gray cathedral, 

Bathed in light both spire and dome : 
Happy lips keep oft repeating, 

Husband's coming home I 

Kneeling in a darkened chamber, 

Saddened wife with streaming eyes, 
Praying God to send some comfort 

Downward from the pitying skies : 
Weary days of travel ended, 

Vf eary feet ng more to roam, 
Pallid, broken, almost dying, 

Husband has come home ! 

On a couch with snowy pillows, 
Marble face with folded eyes ; 



10 The Add ISO 71 Reunion Papers. 

Through the window golden sunset 
Floods, the room with crimson dyes, 
^ Lights the pale face of the watcher, 
Gilds the spire upon the dome : 
Hush ! an angel's on the threshold — 
Husband's going home 1 

Alix. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 11 



A TRIBUTE TO MARYLAND. 

I LOVE the North, I love the South, 

I love the East and West ; 
From Maine to Texas, every State, 

But Maryland the best. 

I love her mountain, rivers, bay, 
Her springs, and brooks, and rills ; 

Her forests v/hich superbly crown 
Her mountains and her hills, 

I love her valleys, all so green, 

Where rustic beauty dwells ; 
Her fragrant groves where Sylvan spDrts, 

And Nature's music swells. 

I've sometimes heard of brighter skies 

Than hers so deeply blue. 
Where softer airs fanned sunnier hills, 

And richer flowers grew ; 

But I have yet to see the land 

In all the world so bright. 
Which from the shores of Mabyland 

My footsteps could invite. 

Let other States increase in wealth, 
And build their cities grand ; 

I will rejoice in their success, 
But love dear Maryland. * 



.12 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Where Chesapeake's broad swelling tide 
Sweeps for th' Atlantic's shore, 

And bright Patapsco's waters glide, 
Behold fair Baltimoee ! 

She sits enthroned on many a hill, 

And stoops to kiss the Bay; 
While ocean storms her bosom thrill 

Like music far away. 

And where proud columns pierce the skies 

To greet the morning sun, 
Behold a noble tribute rise 

To honor Washington ! . 

And clustered at its base we see 

The city's wealth and pride, 
And palaces where piety 

And charity abide. 

A mighty tide of merchandise 

The West pours through her streets, 

While Eastern climes, to grace her ports, 
Send forth their white-winged fleets. 

Prolific stores from Northern shores 

Gome through her open gates, 
And with sweet chums "King Cotton" comes 

From sunny Southern States. 

O'er Alleghany's dizzy heights 

With sttel-clad arms she guides 
Her iron steeds, where through rich meads 
The swift Oiiio glides. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 13 

Then through Virginia's lovely valeg 

She bids the echoes wake, 
And binds the noble Chesapeake 

With Michigan's proud lake. 

All nature, with exquisite skill, 

Her favorite seeks to bless ; 
While city parks and Druid Hill 

Are clothed in loveliness. 

The rose and lily sweetly blend, 

And charm with equal grace, 
Where beauty's queen is ever seen 

To show her blushing face. 

As rose-buds in a maiden's hand, 

Or on her heaving breast, 
So in the arms of Maryland 

Loved Baltimore doth rest. 



On Anne Arundel's lovely shore, 

By Severn's placid stream, 
Annapolis stands on golden sands, 

Like some sweet olden dream. 

The mighty past with visions fill 

Her legislative halls ; 
Whilst on the heart each patriot's voice 

In silent music falls. 

Unbare the brow, with reverence stand 
iviidsi iueniories of the dead ; 

These quiet chambers echoed once 
Our mighty chieftain's tread. 



14 The Add is Gil Reunion Papers. 

Here heroes met, and beauty emiled 
To see the sword laid down, 

And Freedom to Oolumbia's son 
Gave more than regal crown : — 

A nation's love, a spotless fame 
To ring through all the world, 

While at the mention of his name 
Her flag should be unfurled. 

****** 

Where teeming fields abundance yield, 
• And bounteous harvests grow, 

Where to Potomac's rock-strewn bed 
Monocacy doth flow — 

Embosomed in a smiling vale 

As fair as Eden's bloom, 
Old Frederick stands, with folded hands, 

Like some old happy groom 

Who finds himself in beauty's bower, 

With diamonds and pearls 
He woos and wine, and weds at last 

The loveliest of the girls. 

The myrtle creeps where Taney sleeps, 

All heedless of his fame ; 
While Whittier lays a wreath of bays 

Round Barbara Freitchie's name. 
* * * * * * 

And where the green-clad mount and hills 

On fertile vales look down, 
Where plenty smiles and beauty thrills, 

Behold rich Hagerstown. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 15 

She nestles 'mocg her lovely hills 
Like pearls 'midst emeralds green, 

Or as a coy but fair young maid 
Who would her beauties screen, 

Her farmers, like th* industrious bee, 

Are gathering all the day ; 
While nature works in harmony 

Their labors to repay. 

Like silent guardians camping round, 

The solemn mountains stand, 
Where throbs the loving, generous heart 

Of blessed Cumberland. 

Forth from her rugged bosom pour 

Heat's never-failing streams, 
Which flow beside the temple's door 

Where active genius dreams. 

Her ebon jewels flash more light 

Than India's brightest gems, 
And crown fair Cumberland with more 

Than regal diadems. 

* # ■ * ^ * * 

And where the early shadows rest, 

And heaven's ethereal veil 
Spreads ever o'er the mountain's crest, 

Old Emmittsburg we hail. 

Behold her fair Pierian springs, 

Whence wisdom's streamlets flow, 
O'ershadowed by the Church's wing — 

Saint Marv's and Saint Joe. 



16 The ^Addison Reunion Papers 

And in this lone and lovely place, 

Where Nature seems so sweet,fj 
The pious aid " the work of grace " 

By sacrifice complete. 

lovely, spotless devotee ! 

Such piety as thine 
A guiding-star to man should be, 

O'er life's dark waves to shine. 

The cloister's walls like clouds obscure 

The sweetest light of heaven : 
Ye clouds, dissolve ! Christ's light and love 

To bless the world were given. 

****** 

Across the vale from ridge to ridge 
Jgg.^ Westminster's arms outspread, 
And oft is seen, 'midst Nature's green, 
Her varied white and red. 

From her aspiring classic hill, 

Behold the wondrous view — 
A sea of green, wide waves between 

The town and mountains blue. 

Each lengthening mile bright scenes beguile, 
And charm the wandering eye; 

Groves, brooks, and hills, farms, churches, mills, 
In varying beauty lie. 

And when in majesty supreme 

The day declines to even, 
The scene is like an angel-dream, 

Or distant glimpse of heaven. 



The Addison Reunion Fa per s., 17 

The mountains kiss tlie crimson West, 

And in their soft embrace 
The golden punhea-ms ?ink to rent, 

The day-gcd hides his face ; 

While o'er the green, in purpling sheen, 

Night waves her dusky fold, 
And cloudlet* float, like isles remote, 

In seas of liquid gold. 

Ye hills, adieu I we now must seek 

'Midst gentler scenes to find, 
Beyond the noble Chesapeake, 

Where Chop tank's waters wind, 

And Pocomoke, and Nanticoke, 

Glide softly to the Bay — 
Where in the hand of Maryland 

The sportsman's treasures lay ; 

Where crabs and canvas- backs abound, 

The luscious bivalve lies, 
And for the epicure is found 

The modern Paradise. 

Over the mountains, hills, and dales, 

On fancy's restless wings. 
From East to West we've swept, and rest 

Where Susquehanna brings < • 

The hills of Pennsylvania near. 

And h*art to heart they speak ; 
In stately grasp each hand doth clas^ 

Beside the Chesapeake, 



18 ' The Addison Heunion Paper 

Beneath one honored flag they move, 
Hope beckoning from afar, 

And Maryland, the State we love, 
Shines like a rising star. 



The Addis 7c Reunion Papers. 19 



ALBANO : A FRAGMENT. 
3Y THOMAS E. VAN BBBBER. 

[Should the following little narrative be found 
not "entirely destitute of interest, that interest will be 
owing entirely to the peculiar circumstances attending 
the death of Albano. Such a death the ancient 
Greeks were accustomed to call ivQavaaich, a term for 
which we have in English no single word which is a 
perfect synonym. The expression " happy death " 
comes nearer to its meaning than any other, but doea 
not entirsly cov^r it. 

The fragment is one of a number of loppings from 
an unpublished romance, which last, the writer sup* 
posed, might be improi/ed in quality by reducing it in 
quantity. The scene of the narra,tive is in the Island 
of Cyprus, a short time previous to its capture by the 
Turks in 1571. At the period referred to it belonged 
to the Venetians. Of the two characters introduced! 
Eolian was by birth a Grecian, whilst his friend Al- 
bano had been born in Italy, and belonged to a family 
many members of which became distinguished as artists. 
These few sentences seem to contain all the informa- 
tion needed for a full comprehension of what follows.] 



I. 



Joined to tlic roar of falliug water, 
Prophetic voices strike his ear, 
Which tell of bloody fields of slaughter, 
And rosy cheeks- turn'd pale with iear. 



20 Th e Addison R eun i o n Pa j)ers. 

Beneath the moon the hoary harper 

. Ac:-oss the cl:zzy bridge CviV% tread ; 

Ye armorers, grind the sharp sword sharper : 
That music freezes him with dread. 

For one week tlie two friends remained at the mon- 
astery, and during that time the effect of fresh country 
air, the excitement of exercise, and the intoxication of 
spirits produced by new objects and a delicious climate, 
acted like a charm on the health of the young poet.. He 
felt an insatiable desire to travel further — to traverse 
in fact the whole island in company with his chosen com- 
panion. Albano was as eager for it as himself, so they 
purchased between them a little white donkey, strong 
enough to carry their travelling wardrobe, and in case 
of need to relieve Eoii^n from, the fatigue of too much 
exercise on foot. Their daily journeys would of coarse 
be short, and were to be guided not by any prear- 
ranged plan, but by the weather, their feelings, the 
caprice of the moment, or the force of circumstances. 

They wandered on, down winding mountain-paths, 
over aerial valleys' v/hich lay above greener valleys 
lower down, through singing villages encircled with 
orchards and gardens, by flowery cemeteries from 
which were wafted such clouds of fragrance as almost 
caused the delicate Eolian to faint into Elysian dreams. 
Sometimes they would sit among the tombs and listen 
to the cooing of turfcle-doves, until both, drowsed for a 
time by the up-floating odors of too many wild flowers 
would sink their heads upon the marble slabs, and lapse 
deep, deeper into vision-tinted slumber. Once during 
the morning they halted bt-side a well from which a 
maiden was drawing water for a flock of sheep, and 
the two youths gazed long and earnestly into her full- 
orbed Oriental eyes, and almost fancied themselveH in 



The Addison Reunion Faper^:. "M 

Holy Land an it was in the days of Scripture. On 
every shaded eminence they tarried long, to count the 
villages in sight, and hea"r the village cocks answerin g 
each other around the horizon, and to watch the 
shadows of the clouds floating ever distant pasture- 
fields, half-darkened, half-gleaming in the sun. Some- 
times a passing spring showei;^ould drive them for a 
time into a cottage or a wayside ruin, and when they 
came forth again, millions of v/ater-drops, some like 
opals, some like diamonds, according as the sun's posi- 
tion in relation to the spectator varied, glittered and 
trembled, and (when the birds shook them from the 
boughs) shivered into drops of liquid flame. 

The artist, being a great pedestrian, always went on 
foot beside his friend, who was frequently compelled 
from weakness to mount the donkey, and to whom, 
owing doubtless to a slight swimming of the head, 
every shifting landscape seemed afloat;, and even the 
solid ground, with all its trees, and hills, and houses, 
appeared in a state of gentle undulation, to be slowly 
moving backv/afds. Albano bore in his hand a staff 
which by a curioUvS mechanism might, by turning a few 
screws, be converted, either into a stool, a flute, or a 
walking-cane. Often in hie solicitude for his friend's 
health he would make him dismount under the shade 
of some pleasant tree, and in^ an instant the cane bs- 
caroe a seat on which -he could rest without danger of 
catching cold from the dampness of the grass. 

On such occasions Eolian would often- draw from his 
pocket a little blank-book and pencil, and commit to 
writing the events .of the day, or such fugitive trains 
of thought as he deemed worthy of being arrested in 
their passage, xoi "^le- bel^u^ed to that hiviag and 



22 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

hoarding order of genius which is always preparing 
materials for future use. Sometimes he would write 
these out at full length, even leaving much for future 
lopping and pruning ; at other times a" few hasty half- 
words would suffice to convey to his imier eye sub- 
stance for pages. 

I will transcribe one little passage which he read 
aloud to his friend soon after its composition, and 
which, fragmentary as it is, may perhaps be under- 
stood by some readers : 

* * * " ^yiien the sun sets and darkness comes 
upon the earth, timid night-walkers have been known 
to provide themselves with a peculiar kind of lantern 
which is so screened as to throw the light only upon 
that part of the road immediately before and beneath 
them, whilst the bearers themselves walk invisible and 
hid in shadow. Others, less fearless, press onwards, 
alike regardless of robbers and pitfalls, buoyed up by 
their ov/n bold and sanguine spirits. Others again, 
but these are few, bev/ildered amongst dark and de- 
vious v^ays, sit calmly dov/n by the roadside, and 
strive to feed their souls with pleasant thoughts and 
cheerful hopes, patiently waiting for the first rays of 
the morning-star. And many are there who deem 
vhemselves fortunate when they can take shelter from 
the outward darknesB in gorgeously illuminated saloons 
and banquet-halls, v/here' mirth and revelry resound 
the live-long night ; although even there grim spectres 
and shadowy shapes have been seen to flit around the 
columns and mingle strangtly v/ith the dancers. And 
thus it is in this our earthly life : few are there be- 
fore whom some dark senae of danger, some dread but 
indistinct forms \xt not looming on the distant horizon ; 



Th e Addison R em n i o n Fa pers. 2 J 

and even mon of «n question f?'^ courage have had their 
presentiments, their visions of beckoning shapes, such 
as appeared to Dion, and Brutus, and Mark Antony." 

* * * :«: :jc it^ 

After dinner they both enjoyed a siesta, and when 
awake Eolian described to. the artist a curious dream 
which seemed to have made a great impression on him. 
He thought himself the possessor of a fairy palace, so 
constructed that every part of the building seemed 
alive and capable of motion, and each and every part 
and every piece of furniture was moulded into some 
living form. Chimneys shaped like grifSns and cen- 
taurs were ever wheeling round and breathing globes 
of many-colored smoke. Columns like those in the 
cave-temple of Elephanta, stood on the backs of ele- 
phants and river-horses. From the ceiling of the hall 
a silver lamp hung from the hand of a figure which 
was suspended by the heels with the head downwards : 
the chain was a coil of serpents, the lamp itself a 
spread eagle, with fiame issuing .from* the bill. The 
sugar-tongs ended in bird's-feet, the wine vessels had 
spouts v;hich were snake-headed, the snuffers were 
crab-shaped and cut off the wicks with their claws, 
the knife-handles grinned at you like satyrs, and the 
tables ran on the legs of greyhounds and a-ntelopes. 

"I recollect an oil-painting," contiaued Eolian, 
"the subject of which struck me with v/onder. A 
lion was represented entangled in a strong net, from 
which he in vain strove to extricate himself. Around 
him had collected a circle' of the most faint-hearted 
beasts in creation. There they stood with their long 
ears pointed forwards as if in deadly fear, although 
there was no real danger. Wild asses and tame asses. 



24 The Addison Rennion Papers, 

hares, rabbits, sheep, and many strange trnmpet-eared 
animals such as I had never seen before, all trembling, 
all spell-bound in that magic ring. The other pictures, 
' though there were many on the walls, have all faded 
from my memory." 

" But you have said nothing of the Lady of the 
Oastle," observed Albano, alluding to his friend's cu- 
rious dream. " I am sure there must have been one 
there, and she a very fair one too." 
. " Indeed, indeed she was," answered the young 
poet. " In some respects like a woman of flesh and 
blood, she had one peculiarity which distinguished 
her from all the daughters of Eve. Apparently desti- 
tute of the power of speech, she yet had the means of 
communicating her ideas in a manner truly wonderful. 
It was this : within a few feet of her face a constant 
Buccession of images, very small but exquisitely beau- 
tifal, seemed to be perpetually passing in the air, and 
in some mysterious manner to mirror forth the most 
secret emotions of her soul. It was a pleasant task, 
Albano, to sit nea,r her and to watch alternately her 
eyes and the pictured thoughts projected from them. 
And not only did it please the eye and delight the 
fancy, but as each image was an emblem or symbol of 
something more spiritual than itself, the understanding 
and reasoning powers were called into constant exer^ 
cise. For you know that many, both heathen and 
Christian, have supposed that this outward physical 
world is but a picture or shadow of the invisible spirit- 
ual world, and that everything we see with our out- 
ward eyes is only typical and symbolical of something 
higher and purer than itself, which can jonly be per- 
ceived by the eyes of the soul. Plato, I believe, was 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 25 

the first who advanced this sublime doctrine, but since 
his time it has frequently been repeated, and has often 
been dwelt upon with peculiar pleasure bj the old 
Fathers of the Church." 

Eolian was now becoming almost too metaphysical 
to suit the taste of his companion, who busied himself 
very little with philosophical* abstractions ; he there- 
fore took but little notice of the last observations. 

* * if: >i; * 5!t 

On the third evening of their wandering, they 
reached a mountain region much wilder than any they 
had yet visited. Cascades, swollen by the recent 
melting of snow, were seen and heard tumbling from 
great heights above and down vast chasms below them. 
It was rough journeying for pleasure, but they felt 
drav/n on by some strange attraction. Soon after 
nightfall they arrived at the hut of a mountaineer, 
one of those long, low, narrow buildings constructed to 
accommodate man and beast under the same roof, 
which with some variations may be found in most 
lofty and pastoral regions. Inside they found a little 
family group assembled around the* supper- table, the 
men clad in 'coarse sheep-skins and leathern breeches 
reaching to the knee, with bare legs and feet ; the 
women v/eather-beaten and boorish ; the children shy 
and half naked ; the furniture scant ; the whole lighted 
by pine torches stuck in iron rings. They spoke a 
peculiar language, which seemed to be a medley of 
Greek, Italian, and Turkish, and which the travellers 
understood with great difficulty. Their meal consisted 
of curd, goat's milk, and a kind of bread made out of 
chestnuts. 

After supper Albano played upon the flute some 
3 



26 Til e A d d is o ??- li e u n io n Pa-p c r s . 

• 
simple airs, with which the mountaineers seemed much 
delighted. He also sang a few Venetian love-songs 
and barcaroles, and many a sweet ditty at that time 
popular among the gondoliers of his native city. It 
was curious to hear melodies which had received their 
birth among the lagunes, accompanied not by the dip- 
ping of oars and the murmur of billows on the beach, 
but by the tinkling of pastoral bells and the lowing of 
cattle. Eolian was transported with pleasure : he 
floated in fancy under the Bridge of Sighs, and gazed 
along the Grand Canal from the Rialto. 

Suddenly the music was interrupted in a manner 
the most singular and unexpected. In one corner of 
the apartment, something which had heretofore been 
motionless and in shadow began to stir slowly ; and as 
the pine torches, for want of trimming, were just then 
burning very dim, it was difBcult for the travellers at 
first to conjecture what it really was. 

It was a human figure ; of that they could not re- 
main long in doubt. A long snov/y beard, eyes vald 
and flashing with maniac brilliancy, a form almost 
gigantic though sightly stooped by age, a black mantle 
drawn round the waist, a portable harp hung over the 
shoulder — this was all the two friends could distin- 
guish, for the apparition strode hastily through the 
door- way and disappeared without the slightest noise. 

" For God's sake," said Albano, starting from his 
seat and dashing down his flute on the floor, "tell me, 
shepherd, what is the meaning of this ? Who and what 
was the figure that has just vanished so strangely ? " 

The shepherd shook his head, and raising his fore- 
finger pointed to his forehead, as though he intended 
to say enigmatically, "All is not right there/' 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 27 

The artist, contrary to his usual calm, self-possessed 
manner, seemed strangely excited. He could contain 
himself no longer, but rushed to the door to catch 
another view of the mysterious wanderer. Eolian fol- 
lowed him, almost as much surprised at his exhibition 
of terror and curiosity as at the apparition itself. 

The scene outside was wild and grand. There was 
no rain or wind, but a chaos of black storm-clouds 
were heaped around the moon, which had just then 
risen above a tall, spire-like peak in the distance. 
Through *a cleft in those vast slow-rolling masses which 
seemed revolving globe within globe, gleamed the sil- 
ver-bright moonbeams, making the vapory blackness 
more striking by occasional streaks and rims of light. 
Waterfalls near and distant could be seen tumbling 
down huge precipices. Over one of these, high poised 
from rock to rock, hung a slender rustic bridge, v/hich 
seemed to tremble in the roar and breath of the cata- 
ract. 

" There he goes," said Albano, bending forward in 
an attitude of the moist intense interest, " half way over 
the old bridge ; how it rocks beneath his tread ! The 
moon is shining full on his broad old shoulders. How 
his harp glitters ! Now he is slowly treading down- 
wards, singing as he goes." 

The artist placed his hand to his ear as if to arrest 
the receding sounds. Fainter, fainter, a chaos of sink- 
ing melodies — now the shoulders of the mystic harper 
disappear, now his head, and now his voice becomes no 
longer audible. Albano turned deadly pale ; it was 
the first time Eolian had ever seen him change color. 
The moonlight fell upon his clasped hands and pallid 
cheek as on a marble statue. His very lips looked as 
cold and as white as marble. 



.28 The Addison Reunion Faj^ers. 

When they returned to the. room the artist played 
and 811 Dg no more that night. He -held his hands 
much over his eyes, as if he wished to screen them 
from view. A deep gloom pervaded the whole com- 
pany. Eolian asked a few queitions, but the informa- 
tion elicited was scanty and unsatisfactory. All that 
he could hear was that the old harper had first made 
his appearance among the mountains a few weeks 
since. None of the shepherds had ever obtained a 
full view of his face ; he made his appearance, they 
said, only in moonshiny nights, and sang mysterious 
airs which no one understood. He was, in fact, the 
same old harper concerning whom dim rumors existed 
for some months past through the Island of Cyprus. 
In city and on mountain, on sea-shore and by forest he 
had been seen, and mystic glimpses caught of him, but 
no one knew his history or understood the object of 
his wanderings. Of such as heard the sound of his 
voice, some went stark mad, some lapsed into profound 
melancholy, and some experienced only a feeling of 
momentary awe which soon gave way to new im- 
pressions. Albano, unfortunately, was not to be num- 
bered among these last. Perhaps his subtle ear for 
music had enabled him to hear deeper than the rest of 
the company, and to penetrate into a mystic labyrinth 
of sound and to disentangle its hidden meaning. Be 
that as it may, from that time the rosy glow of life's 
opening morning vanished forever. Death was with 
him — in him. He felt there was no escape ; the last 
struggle must be encountered, and that, too, very 
shortly. 

The travellers slept that night in a rude kind of 
hay-loft, immediately above the stalls occupied by the 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 29 

COWS and goats, wliose bells kept a perpetual tinkling. 
Their bed consisted of wild mountain-grasses, very 
sweet-smelling and clean, and intermixed with many 
fragrant flowers. Eolian, in spite .of the pastoral 
sounds under him, and in spite of his solicitude for his 
friend, soon lapsed in^a refreshing sleep. The fatigues 
of the day had exhausted him ; he did not even dream 
until long after midnight. 

Very different was it with the poor painter. Strange 
feelings, such as he had never before experienced, 
had taken strong possession of his soul. Forebodings, 
wild fancjings, shudderings — he could by no eff'ort 
shake them off. From the very first sight of the mys- 
terious old harper, it seemed as though a wonderful 
change had passed over him. It sometimes occurred 
to him that an old Hebrew prophet had by the force 
of witchcraft been called up from the sleep of centu- 
ries, and was now wandering about the island, the fore- 
runner and the foreseer of coming evils. The mad- 
dening glare of his eyes, though he had seen them only 
for an instant, was still gleaming on him, the distant 
hum of his voice still ringing in his ears. 

About midnight these chill shudderings gradually 
Tvore off, and gave way to a feeling of calm but 
mournful resignation. He arose from his hay' couch, 
threw open a rude window-shutter of rough boards, 
and looked out upon the landscape. On breezy preci- 
pices moaned drearily the mountain-pine; from the 
depths of hollow chasms and shadowy gorges came the 
voice of many streams. The storm-clouds had all dis- 
persed ; higlT up in the zenith glistened the planet 
Mars, with his peculiar ruby-like hue, whilst in a'dif- 
ferent part of the heavens Jupiter throbbed with pure 
and silvery lustre. 



30 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Perceiving a rude hay-ladder wliicli opened an easy 
communication between the window and the ground, 
and anxious to have a more unimpeded view of the 
prospect, the artist slowly descended, and advancing 
some little distance, found himself standing on a 
smooth mossy slope above the slumbering cottage. At 
first all his senses were absorbingly aroused, and the 
whole body with its fine mystic inlets was thrown open 
to collect information of the surrounding w^orld. But 
soon the pressiJig imvard ceased, and all the naves 
and aisles of the temple being crowded, the inner 
altar-worship commenced. 

Albano laid aside his cap and knelt reverently on 
the mountain-moss. He was barefooted, his arms were 
folded across his breast, his head was slightly bowed, 
the night winds blew aside the clustering curls from 
his forehead. In this reverential attitude he remained 
for ten or twelve minutes, and then devoutly making 
the sign of the cross on front and bosom, he prostrated 
himself on his face upon the earth. 

Let us linger a little longer beside the young artist, 
and peer deeper into the inner sanctuary of his soul. 
Taking a review of the ideas in their sequence which 
arose in his mind, he underwent in a few moments 
changes which whole nations have been long centuries 
in accomplishing. When he first came forth and 
gazed upon that wild mountain scenery, that chaos of 
peaks and ridges, some capped with snow, some over- 
shadowed by peaks still higher than themselves, 
some silvered by the moonshine ; when he first heard 
the fitful and solemn voices which pealed hollowly 
through the pines and cedars, mingled w^th the roar 
of tumbling torrents ; when he perceived the peculiar 



The Addison Reunion Pai^ers. 31 

odor of mountain evergreens fuming like incense to- 
wards heaven ; when the cool mountain-breezes passed 
bracinglj across his limbs and wooingly through his 
ringlets, his first impression was that the earth was 
an animated sentient being, and that he could almost 
hear and feel the beating. of her big heart in unison 
with that of his own. 

This was the first stage in his meditations ; but this 
idea soon gave way to one loftier. He looked up at 
the stars. They too seemed living creatures, each 
with a heart of its own, and with a splendor inherent 
and underived. Astronomers had not yet adopted the 
idea that the ruddy aspect of Mars is owing to vast 
collections of ice around his northern and southern 
poles, but the idea so beautifully expressed by Dante, 
that that planet was allotted to the beatified spirits of 
Crusaders who had died on the battle-field, v/as still be- 
lieved by many. The painter supposed for a moment 
that its sanguine lustre was owing to the bright and 
fiery nature of its indwelling soul. Jupiter's heart 
seemed to beat with a still purer and softer pulsation. 
And for a time the young artist was in faith a star 
worshipper. 

But soon he arose to another stage of belief still 
loftier. The animating soul, not of the Earth, or 
Mars, or Jupiter, but of the Universe : God, the In- 
comprehensible, the primal source of Being, the 
Creator and Upholder of millions upon millions of 
worlds, the one only God 1 He had often heard this 
truth stated before ; he now for the first time felt it 
passing like a holy flame through his v/hole being, 
sanctifying, cleansing, overawing. He felt himself su- 
perior in dignity and in the scale of nature to the 



32 Tlic Addison Reunion Papers. 

largest and the brightest planet above bim, and yet 
(strange contradiction) as the most insignificant drop 
in the ocean of living existences. It was this idea 
which prostrated him with his face upon the moun- 
tain-moss. He knew he was in the presence of the 
Almighty One. Let us leave him. 

II. 

Albano first knows liis Creator 

AVhilst prostrate on the mouutain moss; 

Thence change on change, from great to greater, 
The Riug-doYe leads him to the Cross. " 

" How dark it grows to the westward ! " said Eolian, 
looking in that direction. " I think there must be a 
hail-storm not many miles distant." 

"But in the east how bright ! " And as Albano 
spoke, he pointed with his right hand over his left 
ghoulder. 

The suddenness of the gesture startled Eolian. He 
supposed his friend had not been attending to the 
scene around him, for all that morning (it was the 
one which followed the night on which he had heard 
the mysterious harper) he had been sad and silent^ 
appearing scarcely to notice anything. 

How, through his down-hanging, melancholy eye- 
lids, did the young artist know what v/as going on in 
the tract of sky behind him ? By what power of 
inner vision had he seen the sun glinting slantwise 
from behind a cloud not large enough to hide the 
solar disc, v/ith other clouds aiound, dark-bodied, 
silver-edged, and poised in clearest ether ? From 
some mysterious cause, acting on the soul through the 
medium of the nervous system — probably the pecu- 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 33 

liar electrical state of tlie atmosphere — both youths 
were struck with a strange but not unpleasing kind 
of awe, such as many have felt, but which no words 
could adequately describe. 

" Oh ! it is bright indeed eastward and overhead, but 
yonder — " He pointed along the western flank of the 
mountain, where streaks of lightning like thin sword- 
blades gleamed ever and anon a^thwart the dark-blue 
void, and then vanished as if drav/n in by the hands 
of invisible hail-spirits. But overhead and all around 
them heaven and earth seemed smiling on each other. 
A few large rain-dropa (it did not amount to a shower) 
fell on the heads and faces of the wanderers, and 
moistened the greening pastures ; spring flowers gave 
out their sweetest odors ; the bleat of new-dropped 
lambs was heard mixed with the tingle of sheep-bells; 
larks sang upwards, and a few black-winged birds, 
whose plumes as they floated past the openings be- 
tween the clouds, melted away in the far splendor. 
In short, about one-sixth of the horizon was scowling 
and muttering awfully, whilst all the rest was silver- 
bright and sun-illumined. 

Albano thought of large hail-stones battering the 
roofs of villages and farm-houses, cutting down vine- 
yards, and pelting the traveller on his lonely path. 

" Heaven help them all ! " he said, crossing forehead 
and bosom. " The damage done by hail-storms may 
be repaired, perhaps, but over me — " he looked de- 
spairing towards the west — "over me shall erelong 
sweep a storm which — " 

He did not finish the sentence, but bowing down his 
head, and covering his face with his hands, a convul- 
sive shuddering passed over his frame which continued 



34 Til e A d d i s o n R e u n i o a Pa p e r s . 

several minutes. It was a return of the same horror 
which had paled his cheek the night previous, but 
not so violent and overpowering. And when at last 
he lifted up his face and turned it full upon Eolian, 
his eyes, though liquid and wild, seemed forlorn and 
melancholy, like the eyes of Cassandra when she fore- 
saw her own destruction. Eolian saw through them 
the ruins of youthful hopes as clearly as the fish- 
erman in the Lago di Guarda is said in calm, clear 
weather to behold the ruins of ancient cities far be- 
neath the water. 

Through a succession of wild and savage scenes they 
travelled all that gloomy day, they knew not, they 
cared not whither. Rocks such as darken the canvas 
of Salva,tor Rosa scowled on them as they passed, 
assuming monstrous and fantastic shapes ; down sombre 
gorges dirge-like voices wailed upon them ; precipices 
threatened to topple and overwhelm them. Anon, their 
way led across forests which, having been upturned 
by recent hurricanes, they could with difficulty make 
their way round prostrate trunks ; now over lonely 
mountain heaths, where not even a sheep-bell was 
audible ; now under barren, blasted peaks which, 
being the craters of extinct volcanoes, looked dark 
and dismal ; ever on and on, amid the tumbling of 
waterfalls, the screaming of vultures, the moaning of 
cypress-trees ; over slender bridges hung from crag to 
crag across some yawning chasm, and which shook 
fearfully beneath their tread —oh, it was wild jour- 
neying there ! Mountain showers of small and almost 
invisible drops swept over them v/hen they least ex- 
pected it and drenched them to the skin ; anon, they 
stood on some lofty summit and saw beneath them a 



The A d d i son R c n n ion Pa iiers. 35 

chaos of thunder-clouds rolling, flashing, congregating, 
diesoiviug. 

All this time they spoke but seldom. Twice they 
flung themselves on some mountain-mosa to rest from 
fatigue, not to slumber. _ Albano never once played 
on his flute ; Eolian never once touched his writing 
materials. 

Towards evening they entered a tract of mountain 
land much less solitary. Wains heavily laden and 
drav/n by huge oxen creaked by them, and files of 
paniered mules passed to and fro with tinkling bells. 
, They were approaching some old copper mines which 
they v/ere told extended far underground, and were 
well worth visiting. Arriving there they gave their 
donkey in charge of a mountaineer who lived hard by, 
and descended into the mine, intending to spend the 
night there. 

It was a little world of its own. By the light of 
torches and cressets elevated on posts and fixed in the 
sides of the huge excavation, hundreds of miners were 
busy with hammer, mattock, and shovel, some in -the 
deep lateral cavities, some high aloft on plank scaffold- 
ing and platforms, some digging, some blasting with 
gunpowder. There they passed the night. The 
strangeness of the scene at first seemed to arouse 
Albano, and he gazed upon the dingy gnomes around 
him with a certain wild interest. Mules were there 
which had not seen the light of day for nearly half a 
century. A subterranean chapel, with its bell and 
organ, called the workmen to worship, and two priests, 
who for penance had vowed never to revisit the upper 
world, chanted a vesper hymn to the Virgin. After 
service, Albano, seating himself behind a dim fire, 



36 The Addison lie union Papers. 

reisted his face in his hands and lapsed into his old 
brooding. That night he slept but little. 

Early in the morning they resumed their journey. 
Again bleak mountain peaks in the cold gray dawn. 

At noon they came in sight of the sea. The wind 
was high : from the top of a promontory around which 
they were creeping, they could hear the roar of the 
breakers for miles along the shore, sounding hollowly 
in the distance. A ship was in the offing scudding 
under double-reefed top-sails. More than once the 
force of the blast threatened to waft them sheer over 
the precipice, but the old donkey pricked up his ears, 
and seemed to take a strange pleasure in walking as 
near the brink as possible. So they pressed forward full 
in the eye of the wind, and trudged on manfully along 
a zigzag path, which lifted them at one time into the 
clouds, and at another led them down to the sandy beach. 
Sometimes they crossed an opening in the iron-bound 
coast, through which a torrent, swollen by recent rains, 
came tumbling to the sea, and foaming in its course 
round fractured rocks. 

Once they passed a group of savage-looking men, 
with unkempt hair and beard, playing cards under the 
shelter of a cliff, whilst one of the party, armed to the 
teeth, was stretched at full length on the summit, toss- 
ing pebbles into the sea. When aware of the transit 
of the tr^ivellers they started from their feet, but after 
gazing for a few moments, burst into a wild laugh and 
then resumed their former sport. 

Once from an overhanging rock they looked out 
upon a small collection of fishing-boats, and witnessed 
the capture of a sword-fish, 'an operation which at any 
other time the artist would have gazed upon with in- 



Th e Add is o n R e u n i o n Fa p c r s . 37 

tense interest ; but as it vfas, liis eyes, thougli fashioned 
by Nature to drink in rapture from the contemplation 
of novel scenes, wavered dreamily and vaguely over 
the spectacle, as though his thoughts were far away. 
What could this world offer of strange or new to one 
v/ho expected soon to enter another ? So the barbed 
spear or harpoon was hurled, the coil of rope loosened, 
the iishing-boat drawn forward with violence, the 
sworded sea-monster caught and disposed of, and the 
travellers pursued their way without a word, except 
two observations from Eolian. 

*' I sometimes think," he said, looking musingly over 
the waters, " that inside my head there is a little sun 
which rises and sets at irregular periods, often on the 
meridian at midnight, and often sinking westward 
when the real sun is about to rise. This inner sun is 
more necessary to my happiness than the external one. 
Often at mid-day all looks black ; even pigeons' necks 
and waterfalls are v/ithout radiance. At such times 
would it not be well to light up a few inner lamps, 
filled with sweet-scented oils and burning with many- 
colored llame ? Desirable it would be, were it only 
possible." 

His second remark, which was made after a short 
pause, was a kind of continuation of the first, and ran 
thus: " No doubt 'twould be easy for the Almighty so 
to color the vapors and mists of the atmosphere as to 
cause sun, moon, or stars to appear yellow, blue, black, 
green, or whatever hue He chose. Much depends upon 
the medium- through which bright objects are seen, 
much on the state of the eye looking on them, still 
more on the state of the heart which furnishes that 
eje, together with its attendant optic nerve, with 
nourishment and life." 



38 The Add is 71 Reunion Papers. 

A little before suDset the wind lulled, aud their path 
winding round the base of a projecting foreland, con- 
ducted them along the rim of a quiet sheltered cove, 
whose waters were purpling under the smile of a rosy 
cloud. 

The cliffs around this spot were not bleak and barren 
like those they had been travelling over for several 
hours, but overhung with flowering vines and greened 
with orange and lemon trees. They had not gone far 
up this pleasant shore when lo ! from a cleft in the 
rock came the cooing of a dove, so very sweet to ears 
which had been long stunned by the dashing of breakers 
and the piping of the wind that both friends invol- 
untarily paused to listen. They had not stopped long 
before out flattered the soft bird herself, and after de- 
scribing two or three circles round the wanderers, she 
settled for a moment quite near the feet of Albano. It 
was a ring-dove, and bore above her heart a circle, the 
emblem of eternity. 

And oh ! how sweetly and smoothly she bore it. 

The image of the Winged Globe, found sculptured on 
many an Egyptian obelisk, had its meaning in days of 
yore, and still has ; but the living and loving type now 
at the feet of our young >rtist is, I think, much more 
beautiful. And who knows but that sweet ring-dove 
may not yet " rise with healing on her winga "? 

Some little children were near there,'gathering early 
spring-flowers, piling them -brimful in osier baskets, 
and weaving them into festoons to ornament their 
heads. They had rowed themselves over from the 
other shore in a little skifl", and were at that moment 
about embarking to return. On looking across the cove, 
Eolian (for Albano was still thinking of the dove, and 



The. Addison Reunion Papers. 39 

liis eyes were fixed intently on some olive trees behind 
which she had disappeared) observed about . half a 
dozen small huts, doubtless the homes of poor fisher- 
men. The children, as they pushed their tiny vessel 
from the shore, held up floral v>'reaths in the rosy eve- 
ning air, and all sang for joy ; and one little girl (she 
was a very cherub for beauty, with long curling ring- 
lets and heaven-lovely eyes) leaned over the side of 
the skiff and dropped the flowers in the water by the 
handful. 

Aibano, after his two long days of suff'ering and pain- 
ful travel, was soothed, very much soothed, but not yet 
quite at peace, as we shall shortly see. 

When they reached the first hut on the other side of 
the cove — for there was a small road leading round — 
Eoiian proposed that they should spend the night there, 
for they both felt w^eary and travel- vrorn. It was a 
rude structure of boards thatched with palm-leaves. 
The little porch before the door was filled with nets 
and fishing-tackle; it w^as the same inside — hooks, nets, 
lines, barbed spears, osier baskets ; whilst hanging 
round the wall or stowed away in odd corners were 
seen old pieces of canvas, and heaps of coral : every- 
thing bore marks of the piscatory calling of its owners. 

They w^ere invited in by a girl of about sixteen, v/ho 
as they afterwards found, was a younger sister of the 
fisherman's wife, and who eyed the youthful stratigers 
v/ith glances half coy, half curious. The young wife 
herself Vv^as at that moment sitting over the fire, and 
seemed stirring something Vv'ith a ladle in a Jarge pot. 
She rose as the travellers entered, drew closer round 
her bosom the folds of her loose dress, and after having 
rallied from the first surprise, bade them be seated and 
rest themselves. 



40 The A dill son Reunion Papery. 

Her liusband, she said, liad not yet returned from 
fishing, and that when his luck was good he often re- 
mained away till a late hour in the night. " But you 
look weary; have you travelled far? " 

" A long rough way," answered Eolian. " It is no 
easy journey along the iron-bouad coast on the other 
side of your quiet cove." 

"You may well say so," answered the young wife, 
and as she spoke she spread the floor with fresh, clean 
mats and cushions stuffed with the feathers of sea-fowl. 
And Eunoe (that was the name of her sister) filled a 
large gourd with fresh water which tumbled from the 
top of a rock behind the hut. This she gave them to 
drink, and filling another vessel from the same pure 
fount, she was back again in an instant, and both sisters 
insisted on washing the feet of their weary guests. 

Eunoe's hair was braided so very neatly, and her 
arms and bosom so nicely rounded, that the eye of the 
artist, ever pleased with the sight of fine forms in na- 
ture or in art, kindled for a moment with something 
of his old enthusiasm ; but soon the lids fell, the long 
lashes quivered, and he wiped away the gathering tear 
before it had trickled far. There had once been a time 
when the view of such forms was ever mingled with 
aspirations of success in his art ; there had once been a 
time when nothing had delighted him more than to 
have* fixed in glowing colors on the canvas such 
images as were now before him. Eolian saw the falling 
drop before it had been wdped away, and knew by 
instinct the feelings which had distilled it. For a mo- 
ment his own chin and lips quivered, but he suppressed 
his emotions, and tried to conceal them by directing 
some commonplace question to the elder sister. 



Tli e Add is on Re u n I o n Pa pers. 41 

Just then the door opened softly, and in peeped 
laughing faces, and in floated fresh odors of spring, and 
in tripped two of the children they had seen rowing 
over the water. They still had their WTeaths and 
flower-baskets ; the little girl had lifted hers upon her 
head, and her bright starry eyes sparkled from-beneath 
a tangle of wild vines. The boy seemed about two 
years older than his sister ; he held in one hand a bas- 
ket and in the other a Httle v/ood-knife. A water- 
spaniel came trotting after them, wagging his tail and 
licking the tips of their ficgers. The whole cabin 
smelt delightfully. It was the advent of youth, and 
joy, and innocence. 

Merciful heaven ! and does it often happen that far 
away on the lonely seashore, far from the pomps and 
splendors of the big world, there is more real happi- 
ness and beauty than in lordly palaces and crowded 
cities ? 

The young mother, v/ithout saying a word as to what 
she was going to do with it, lifted the basket from her 
daughter's head, and emptied half the contents on one 
mat and half on the other. 

And so with sweet mountain -moss and wild violets 
under them (there was some heart's-ease there too), 
and smiling facfes around them, and the pleasant house- 
hold sounds of cooking and washing around the hearth, 
the travellers rested pleasantly after their weary wan- 
dering. Even the sound of the boiling pot on the fire 
presented no unpleasant contrast to the roar of boister- 
ous winds and surges dashing on the shore. 

So great had been their fatigue during the day 
and so little had they slept the night before, that 
both friends soon lapsed into a pleasant slumber. 



42 Th e Add i s o n Reu n i o n. Pa pcrs. 

About an hour before midnight, the spaniel, which had 
also been dozing before the hearth, began to bark, and 
then the young mother arose, and lighting a pine-torch 
by the fire, went out to meet her husband. In com- 
pany with four or five other fishermen, he was already 
on the l^each ; from other cabins came other torches 
and other dogs ; and what with the men and their 
wives and the dogs (the children were fast asleep), 
and the combined effect of torchlight mingling with 
moonlight, and the tall clifis above, and the quiet 
dimpling of the cove below, it was a scene worthy the 
pencil of Gerardo della Notte. 

Eolian, aroused by the noise, came out and stood in 
the doorway to see what was going on. In a moment 
on the retina of the poet's eye, refreshed as it was by 
sleep, and delicately sensitive to the minutest effects of 
light and shade, the whole scene was depictured. The 
young wife seemed to be telling her husband about 
them, for as he turned his head and the light fell full 
on his massive weather-beaten features, his counte- 
nance expressed considerable surprise. He was a broad- 
shouldered man, with a long black beard. The whole 
view had for the poet a wonderful magic. The long 
gleaming column of light which the moon threw across 
the cove ; the moving to and fro of the torches, now 
bringing into view the slouched hats and leathern 
doublets of the fishermen, nov/ flashing upon the hand- 
some features of the fisherman's wife ; the chase of 
shadows as the figures moved over the sand ; the 
emptying of the laden boats ; the gasping and jump- 
ing of the fish that were thrown upon the shore ; the 
dragging of the boats out of the water, and the spread- 
ing of nets on the beach to dry, altogether com- 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 43 

posed a scene so beautiful that Eoliau re-entered the 
hut with the intention of waking Mbano. 

But as he bent over his friend he saw from the ex- 
pression of his face that he was chained down by the 
power of some absorbing dream, and though the vision 
seemed to be of a painful nature, he could not bear to 
arouse him. Soon after the fisherman and his wife also 
entered, but as they both, upon a sign from Eolian, 
walked softly and spoke in a whisper, the artist's fa^ncy 
continued its wild work undisturbed and uninter- 
rupted. 

And here v/e may mention, in passing, that ever 
since the night of the mysterious harper, Eolian's mind 
seemed to take its hue and coloring from that of Al- 
bano, and to be overmastered by it, though before that 
the artist had always looked up to his friend as to one" 
intellectually superior. Hence, though enchanted but 
a moment before by the magic of the moonlight scene, 
the sight of the sleeper's face threw him back into his 
old gloom, and under* the influence of this feeling he 
drew forth his tablets and threw off some hasty pages, 
of which the following sentences are a few short ex- 
tracts. I hang them up in this place as fleeting sum- 
mer-clouds which mayhap each reader's fancy may 
fashion into a different shape and interpret in a differ- 
ent m'anner, or which many may prefer passing by 
altogether unnoticed. 

Extracts feom Eolian's Diary. 

. . . " The butterfly keeps his spiral tube clo^ly 
roiled up, and rarely uncoils it, save when sucking 
honey from the Ijells of flowers. So a man should do 
with his poetical talent, should he happen to have.any. 



44 Th G A d d i son R cu n i o a Pa p crs. 

The moon, to a spectator on the earth, always presents 
the same side : the same half- sphere variously lighted 
up or shaded, forms all the varieties of her phases. 
One-half of a man's mind — provided he have a beau- 
tiful one — is enough to be presented to the public 
gaze. Yes, but the difficulty is to get them to look 
even at that half. Then let us rid ourselves of all low 
thirst after popular favor and turn our eyes fount- 
ward. The very horses, when drinking, instinctively 
turn their heads up stream and look towards the well- 
head, lest the w^ater become polluted by the mud from 
their own hoofs. Trifling ! A trifle ? Some days ago 
I saw a single skein of cobweb, dew-besprinkled, 
stretched from a sprig of grass to a neighboring flower : 
it was under the shade of a tree, and as the tree moved, 
gently in the wind, a gleam of sunlight ran up and 
down the slender cord. Had it not been for this thin 
and varying stream of light, the dewy spider-rope had. 
remained invisible. Many a lowly thing is there which 
would look bright if heaven's blessed light tjould only 
reach it. Light? yes, and shadow. Who has not 
observed how much more beautiful is the landscape 
when the shadows are thrown ifc»2m?^<fs the spectator — 
like a rich character whose dark points (such as they 
are) are all projected in front, and serve the more to 
beautify it. 

. . . " Singular how animals often arrange them- 
selves into regular mathematical figures ! Cows return 
from pasture-field in single file ; wild geese pass over 
in tie form of open triangles ; partridges sleep at night 
in little circles with their heads outwards; but 'what 
pleases me most is to view in early spring and autumn 
a movable globe of insects, each in perpetual vibration. 



The Addison Reunion Pajiers. 45 

and the whole sphere trembling, breaking and forming 
anew, as the gentle breeze blows upon it with more or 
less force. What rounds those tiny beings into a ball ? 
and why, w^hen undisturbed, do they ever resume this 
globular form; and while each enjoys the freedom of 
individual motion, does the whole revolve around a 
variable centre ? A dog's foot, when wet, imprints a 
singular figure on the floor, somewhat like a five- 
leaved clover. With numerical regularity has Nature 
measured off her productions. In this the poet must 
imitate her. There are as many kinds of versification 
as there are of flowering. Dante's Divine Comedy is like 
a cruciform Gothic church, with triple lanceolate win- 
dow and three aisles : in both the same wonderftil wed- 
lock of exact calculation and grotesque variety, of ex- 
uberant wildness with the closest observance ofseverely 
regular laws. The poem consists of three equal parts. 
More: it is composed in the " terza rima ; " a three- 
fold twine,. a succession of triune evolutions from be- 
ginning to end^reminding us of the '* Trinal Triplici- 
ties " spoken of by the schoolmen. And yet within 
this plan marked out by rule and compass, what pro- 
fuse and inexhaustible variety ! So -works the bee, 
storing away in hexagonal and mathematically-fashioned 
cells, honey collected from a thousand different flowers. 
So works the spider, when rainbow colors play over 
her concentric circles, and dewdrops like eyes sparkle 
over all her " wheels within a wheel." God, they say, 
is the soul of brutes, and shall not He be the soul of 
the poet? The mason goes to work with compass, rule 
and plumb-line : so the poet. Quantities must be 
measured, syllables counted, proportions observed, 
length of lines adjusted, collocation and succession of 



46 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

rhymes closely attended to. But after all, books (even 
the best) are but imperfect shadows cast by mighty souls 
It is not the book itself I admire, but the mind from 
which it emanated. See no more of the sun than his 
reflection in a muddy pool, and you would form but a 
poor conception of his splendor. Nothing vexes me 
more than to be bored about my fondness for books. 
The best of them often provoke me ; sometimes I dash 
them in the fire or tear them to pieces. Even Dante's 
great poem is nothing better than Dante's intellect in 
eclipse. Often by intense gazing I think I can see 
through the rosy shadow, and catch faint glimpses of the 
unveiled fiery orb : but this is only an illusion. No : 
books are poor, cold, shadowy things after all, though 
not without a certain sweetness. Their principal use 
is that they contain an imperfect record of v^hat 
sharper eyes than our own have seen in Nature and the 
world. As such I love them. GOD Himself has not 
disdained to write a book — The Book — through 
which, like children gazing through discolored glass 
upon an annular eclipse of the sun, v/e may catch some 
faint glimpses of the outskirts of His splendor and 
glory." . p . 

From these specimens the reader will perceive there 
was a roll, a whirl, a wild- tossing of thoughts and 
images in the poet's soul. But could we throw our- 
selves back into the central parts of his mind as it was 
on that night, we might perhaps trace many subtle 
bonds of connection between ideas apparently inco- 
herent, just as to a spectator in the centre of the sun 
all the planets would appear full-orbed, and none 
would seem to have a retrograde br irregular move- 
ment. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 47 

"When lie bad finished writicg he again composed 
himself to slumber. As to Albano, he awoke about 
two hours before daybreak. The brands on the hearth 
had burnt out ; the interior of the cabin was dark. 
His dreams had left his soul like the ocean after a 
storm, the waves still high, the shores strewed vath 
the wrecks of many hopes. 

Let us examine a little more deeply into the real state 
of his mind. We have seen how on the fatal night when 
he heard the old harper, his soul partially recovered 
from the efif'ects of the first shock ; how he looked through 
Nature up to Nature's God. 2,ndifelt that his spirit was 
immortal. This latter truth was still more impressed 
on him by the sight of the ring-dove, for Albano be- 
longed to that order of men who are sooner convinced 
by types and emblems, by something which strikes the 
fancy and eye, than by trains of abstract reasoning. 

But these alleviations of the effect of the shock were 
far from being complete. During the last two days of 
travel God seemed to be frowning on him, the ele- 
ments seemed to be at war with him ; he was stunned, 
overwhelmed by the majesty of a Being who seemed at 
an infinite distance. In short, he had not yet, in 
faith g,t least, and inmost conviction, advanced beyond 
the religion of Nature. 

The view of the ring-dove lulled him for a time, 
but now the winds were up again fiercer than ever. 
Having worked his way through a chaos of dismal 
dreams, through fire, through water, over toppling 
crags, across waste grave-yards, and among formless, 
monsters, he was now awake in a dark hut by the sea, 
with unconscious sleepers around him. Then Death 
came before him in all his terrors. His heart beat 



48 Th e A del is o n R e u >j io n Fap c r s. , 

audibly. His first impulse was to call his friend, but 
he did not — he could not ; he was spell-bound by his 
own awful feelings. 

It seemed as though the whole history of his life 
were passing before him in all its details, but with in- 
conceivable rapidity. Old scenes, old thoughts, some 
of them reaching back far into childhood, rose up, but 
they rose up like dead bodies which are made to mount 
by the shock of cannon fired near the shore w^here men 
have been drowned. Like travellers in subterranean 
caverns and catacombs when their torches have been 
extinguished by the wings of startled bats, he felt be- 
wildered and horror-struck. Lost, lost he seemed in 
the immensity of a limitless creation, destined to be- 
come the prey of savage devouring elements, without 
any mediator, any bond of communication between 
himself and an offended God. He even began to hope 
he was not immortal, to long for utter annihilation. 
The sweat of his agony bedewed his forehead ; he 
shook like a man in an ague-fit. His brain became 
like a witch's caldron, in which monstrous things 
were seething, and around which evil spirits came 
flocking to the incantation of the weird sisters. 

Had this state continued much longer I think it 
must have ended in brain-fever. But a singular phe- 
nomenon took place. After remaining in this state 
somewhat more than, an hour, he sank into a short 
doze or stupor, on recovering from which, lo ! the 
walls and ceiling of the room seemed glowing with all 
the colors of the rainbow, and all arranged in marvel- 
lously beautiful patterns, in bars and globes and rings 
of wonderful prismatic light. 

It was fearfully beautiful. Albano's artist eye was 



The Ad ills 0)1 Reunion Papers. 40 

fascinated in a way lie had never before experienced. 
Secrets in his art he had long been striving to fathom 
were suddenly opened to him. It seemed as though he 
were surrounded by a network of colors, from which he 
could not, he wished not, to escape. It seemed as 
though through those marvellous forms and hues he 
was borne to the contemplation of the Creator of all 
forms, the Author of all colors. He recollected when 
at school having been peculiarly struck with that pas- 
sage in Virgil descriptive of the goddess Iris, and how 
the same poet who composed those beautiful lines has 
been_ supposed to have predicted the advent of the 
Messiah in language almost as strong as that of Isaiah. 
And could it indeed be the many-tinted messenger 
from another world sent to announce his speedy de- 
parture ? 

This thought was the beginning of his consolation. 
He wished to communicate his dawning comfort to his 
friend, but so powerful v/as the spell by which he was 
bound, that for a long time he could move neither 
hand nor foot. And when at last he called to him 
and told him" what he had seen, Eolian could be- 
hold nothing but the walls and ceiling faintly glim- 
mering in the first dim light of approaching dawn. 
He was astonished beyond measure by the words of 
Albano ; and though he supposed the whole must be 
an optical delusion, he felt as though it would be 
wrong to tell him so. The brain, he knew, when in a 
highly excited state, often stimulates the optic nerve 
from within, and paints more vivid pictures on the 
retina than any cast upon it from ivithout ; but of this 
fact, concerning which even then there was some 
knowledge among medical men, he soon lost sight 
4 



50 The Addison Reun ion Papers. 

in the strangely pleasing awe inspired by his friend's 
description of his sensations. He was drawn into the 
magic mesh himself, and entrammeled not through the 
eye but through the ear. The verses from Virgil 
which Albano repeated in low and musical tones, 
brought the whole more vividly before him than if he 
had actually seen it : they sounded sweetly oracular. 
He knew that his friend's death could not be far off, 
and he almost wished that the many-hued messenger 
had been sent to announce his own departure. 

I said that was the heginning of his consolation. So 
it was. The waters had subsided, and behold the 
colors of the Bow of Promise ! 

As daylight advanced those colors appeared to fade. 
The two friends walked out on the beach, Albano led 
the way. He said nothing; they seemed to under- 
stand each other without the aid of words. Straight 
he went to that part of the shore where the evening 
before he had seen the ring-dove. There she was. 
The artist clapped his hands for joy. 

The dove fluttered around them in circles. And lo I 
once more the colors of the rainbow : yes, coming 
and going across the dove's neck, and making the em- 
blematic ring there more and more beautiful. And 
the rosy glow of morning — that too was there, over- 
spreading the ring and painting the cheeks of the 
gazers. 

"Eternity is no longer awful to me," and he pressed 
his friend's hand as he spoke. 

Almost insensibly the pious bird led them onward. 
They followed in silence, hand in hand. At last, after 
lighting often on the ground and again mounting, she 
perched on the top of one of those rustic crosses so 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 51 

often seen in Catholic. countries by tlie wayside. There 
she sat, at first opening and shutting her wings (but 
not for flight), and then closing them broodingly. Her 
nest was there. 

Albano sank on his knees. His consolation was 
complete. No longer Nature frowned upon him ; the 
Maker was no longer at an immeasurable distance. 
The Dove and Cross ! 

The Dove and the Cross ! The whole incident was 
too striking to be the mere effect of accident or chance. 
The Holy Spirit had led him to the feet of the Saviour. 

The Triune God was embracing him, was in and 
aroundhim. Come flood, come fire, come earthquake, 
come whirlwind ! I see the mystic Three-in-One smiling 
on me through them all. 

III. 

Glory and fame, erewhile so pleasant, 
Now worthless seem as a pebble's toss ; 

The fisherman's wife receives as a present 
His picture of the blood-red Cross. 

When they returned to the fisherman's hut, all were 
struck with the expression of Albano's countenance. 
His face literally shone. The mutations of feeling 
through which he had passed during the last few days 
seemed to have changed his nature, and this was fol- 
lowed by a corresponding change in his appearance : 
thinner, more transparent, more graceful. His hair, 
always worn long and naturally curling, now moist- 
ened by the sea-breeze, hung in clusters and rings 
adown his neck and shoulders. And his eyes ! It was 
evident from their expression that a still greater change 
awaited him. 



52 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

We are told by naturalists concerning that curioua 
insect, the dragon-fly, or lihellula (which it is well 
known lives for several years whilst in its nymphine 
state at the bottom of water), that when about to un- 
dergo its transformation, the approaching change is in- 
dicated by a certain brightening and transparency of 
the eyes, and that "this is owing to the visual organ 
of the perfect insect, which is amazingly lustrous, 
shining through the mask of the nymph.'' 

Something analogous seemed to be going on in the 
nature of Albano. The little girl was one of the first 
who seemed struck by it. She was beating her tam- 
bourine and dancing at the moment he entered ; but the 
instrument dropped to the .floor, and she shaded her 
eyes with her hands. 

The young wife had prepared a savory breakfast of 
bread, crabs, and various kinds of fish, and had in- 
vited several of her neighbor-fishermen to partake of 
the little repast. Before sitting down Albano pro- 
nounced a blessing. He had never done so before, but 
now it seemed to come perfectly natural to him. 

After breakfast he recollected that he had in his 
portfolio a small oil-painting which he had elaborated 
with great care, and which some time or other he ex- 
pected to see hung up to the public gaze at some art 
exhibition, or in the picture-gallery of some nobleman 
of Cyprus or Italy. "And oh, if it should gain the 
prize," he whispered to himself, " then I also could say 
with the great Oorreggio, * ancK io sono pittore.' " The 
picture was the last he had painted, and all his 
friends assured him it was the best. I will give a 
brief verbal description of it, mainly to show how the 
young artist had been striving after efic'ects which are 
rarely attained by the aid of the pencil alone. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 53 

It was an autumnal landscape, with a golden mist 
like that which we see ia America during Indian sum- 
mer, draped around the distant horizon. In the fore- 
ground a pool. Deep in the liquid element brilliant for- 
est-trees seemed hanging down by the roots, with clouds 
under them. One tree standing by the water was old 
and leafless, but of this too an inverted image was seen, 
with all its most minute twig-work entire and perfect ; 
but an air-bubble rising at that moment from the bot- 
tom seemed to have shaken it, until trunk and con- 
volved branches trembled in every intricate fibre from 
the root downwards. In the distance hills were seen 
casting their long dark shadows over a misty vale, 
from the bottom of which a cottage sent up a column 
of smoke, which, mounting through mist and shadow, 
spread out in the form of a tree-top. 

But these objects were only accessories and subordi- 
nates ; we have not yet mentioned the chief and master- 
image in the picture. It was this, A blood-red vine 
having run up the trunk of an old tree, and spreading 
out along two of the main branches which had grown 
opposite and horizontally, it looked as though the tree 
had turned Crusader and wished to battle with the 
winds ot Autumn under the sign of the Holy Cross. 
Whether the artist only imagined this scene, or 
whether he had actually witnessed it and drew from 
memory, he never told his friend, but certain it is the 
'picture excited much admiration. 

What particularly struck Eolian was a certain feli- 
city of touch by which the more difiicult and delicate 
parts of the execution were thrown off without appar- 
ent effort. For instance, the slight circles caused on 
the water by the bursting of the bubble, and the con- 



54 The Addison Reunion Pax>ers. 

sequent disturbance in the outline of the inverted fig- 
ures ; and then the magic of color by which the smoke- 
column arose through vapor and through shadow, and 
by which, each of the three though interblended, still 
preserved its own identity. 

Like many master-pieces, at first view it did not 
strike with its full efi'ect ; but look again and more 
attentively, and every part seemed alive and gifted 
with a peculiar vitality ; look still longer, and the 
colors began to glow and move, and though there was 
neither man nor animal in the whole piece, nothing 
seemed inanimate or meaningless ; and strange to say, 
gaze still longer yet, and the colors seemed to fade 
away in the distance, throwing the gazer into a sort of 
trance or waking dream, during which visions arose 
from the inmost depths of the soul, overspreading and 
displacing those on the canvas. Such at least was the 
effect it had on Eolian. 

And now, as if prompted by a sadden impulse, he 
drew the picture from its case and held it before the 
eyes of the fisherman's wife. 

" It is yours, young mother," he said. *' For five years 
let it hang at the head of your bed, and when you look 
at it morning or night, remember that even trees 
have been known — in out-of-the-way places where no 
human eye could look at them — to make the sign of 
the cross ; and at the end of the fifth year, if you are 
still alive (and I am sure you will be), promise me to 
hang it up in the nearest seaside chapel." 

The young fisherman's wife was affected to tears^ 
partly by the influence of the gift itself and partly by 
the voice and appearance of the giver. With many 
thanks and many a blessing she received it, though but 



The Addison Renin' on Papers. 55 

little aware of the costly gem of art of wliicli she 
became the possessor. 

And before they left the hut to continue their 
journey, Albano gave to the girl a little box of water- 
colors with a camel-hair pencil, and showed her how 
to use them. To the boy he presented a curious knife 
furnished with many blades of little saws and files; it had 
been made in Milan, and was considered very rare and 
beautiful. The fisherman's wife received in addition 
to the picture a costly ring, which he took from his 
ow^n finger and placed on hers (there was no harm in 
it under the circumstances); to Eunoe he gave a gol- 
den arrow to ornament the braids of -her hair ; and to 
the fisherman himself several large pieces of solid gold 
coin, worth more than he could earn in the regular 
course of his trade in as many years. Eolian also gave 
according to his ability, and all seemed satisfied and 
grateful. The parting was not without tears. 

After this, resuming their journey along a narrow 
road which led through an opening in the crags 
towards the interior, they reached that night a collec- 
tion of shepherds where they slept under a tent. Some 
of the men sat up till morning watching their flocks ; 
they were a kind of nomads, and according to the ad- 
vance or decline of the year were accustomed to ascend 
or descend the sides of the mountain. The tents were 
woven of black goat-skins, and were the same kind 
that St. Paul used to make with hij own hands. 
Around was heard a continuous bleating of lambs and 
the sound of innumerable sheep-bells. 



56 The Addison Reunion Papers. 



IV. 

Oh run, ere yet a single drop is 
Down-falling of the coming storm, 

And lay him on a bed of poppies. 
In infant slumber, rosy-warm. 

About midniglit the artist awoke, and leaving the 
tent, v/alked to where a few shepherds were chatting 
around some logs which were burning with a slow 
flame.- The Northern Cross was sinking in the west- 
ern horizon ; the shepherds knew by that the hour, for 
they counted the watches of \hQ night by the rising 
and setting of certain familiar stars. It was the eve 
of the Ascension, and from distant villages far off on 
the plain sky-rockets and fire-works ever and anon 
arose, mounted high in air, and exploded. A large 
monastery some six or eight miles to the westward was 
illuminated over the whole of its vast j)ile> and held 
up its brilliant lights far and wide in the quiet night. 

Albano sat down with the shepherds and asked tbem 
many questions about their pastoral life. Erelong he 
v^as joined by Eolian, who came forth and also seated 
himself by the fire. After chatting for some time on 
such simple subjects as presented themselves to the 
company, there ensued a long interval of silence, 
during which the artist seemed absorbed in deep 
thought. At last he said, turning to Eolian, and 
speaking in a low, sweet voice : 

" It strikes me that much injury has been done to 
religion by too much classifying, defining, and philoso- 
phising. Truths which from their nature ought to be 
as fluent and mobile and as life-supporting as .the air 



The Addison Reunion Fajyers. 57 

and water, are encased in hard iron or fixed in firm 
moulds. Mysteries, instead of resting cload-like on 
the heart like the Shekinah on the Mercy-seat between 
the wings of the Cherubim, are analysed and subtle- 
ised and frittered away into nothing. Open the books 
of the schoolmen : skeins twisted and tangled inextri- 
cably. Open the New Testament : lo ! a world of 
wonder, but all alive, all beautiful, the very riddles 
like morning-clouds all aglow with the fire of an un- 
seen but uprising Sun. As you read, hard outlines 
melt into graceful curves, apparent enigmas dissolve 
and melt into springs of living water, even apparent 
contradictions (in a way not to be explained by words) 
clear themselves in running, and flow lovingly together 
to one great ocean. Here all is love and softness, and 
smells like the precious ointment which the saintly 
sister poured upon the locks of Christ." 

Eolian had never before heard him speak so contin- 
uously and fluently. He listened in silence. Even if 
his friend were wrong in his speculative belief, he 
seemed to be so in the sincerity of a pure heart. He 
did not, therefore, say one word to subvert or even 
modify his opinions. 

The next morning was Ascension Day. A veil of 
rosy mist hung over the face of spring. All Nature 
was draped beneath a covering of warm bland vapor ^ 
One of the shepherds conducted them by a v/inding 
path to a great highway about two miles distant : it 
was the main road leading from the eastern to -the 
western part of the island, and connected together two 
principal sea-ports. 

The rose-tinted fog still continued, although in some 
places restless' and tremulous as if wishing to mount. 



58 I' h e A d diso a Re ii n i o n Pa p ers. 

Had it not been for this vapory screen, a public 
thoroughfare would have jarred on the feelings of the 
two wanderers, and they would have diverged into a by- 
road; but as it was, all commonplace ideas were beautified , 
all objects became idealised and spiritualised. Camels, 
hid from view at a little distance, came almost step- 
ping on them out of the mist : went past market-girls 
riding towards a neighboring town on paniered don- 
keys : went past long strings of mules, whose bells 
could be heard approaching and receding behind wa- 
tery curtains : palaces towered along the road-side, 
with musicians half-descried on roof and upper bal- 
cony : a band of bowmen, in honor of the day, stood 
with quivers on their shoulders, for the lifting of the 
mist, to try their skill in archery : everything was fluc- 
tuatiug in outline and magically dream-like. Ever 
and anon horns could be heard pealing behind the 
moist screen-work, but huntsmen and horns were all 
invisible. 

I said it was Ascension Day: everything seemed 
ascending — larks, the wreath of flowers, the music of 
chiming church-bells ; even the fogs uprose and mounted 
heavenward, and as they did so they left on every 
plant and herb strings of water-drops, like rosaries, to 
pray by. 

On Albano descended a peculiar spirit of joyousness, 
unlike any he had ever before experienced. Though 
he knew this to be his death-day, he never before had 
felt such a keen enjoyment of life. It seemed to him 
as though the whole earth were a green play-ground, 
where human souls under the masks of fleshly bodies 
were sporting among flowers, and that the play-ground 
was at the same time a grave-yard, and that all, old and 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 59 

youDg, were dancing and playing hide-and-go-seek 
around the tombs of their forefathers. All his senses 
became acater ; his ear collected and drew in from far 
and near the multiform harmonies of Natare ; his eye, 
softly rolling on its axis, took in landscape after land- 
scape with ever-increasing pleasure ; he knew what 
flowers were blooming long before he reached them, 
and many springing up right and l§ft, talked with him 
as he passed, and told him what colors they bore and 
how much longer they should live. " Your life will be 
short," he answered, "but still much longer than mine; 
and whilst we do live, let's e'en v/ag our heads merrily 
in the breeze." Eolian started ; he thought the speech 
was addressed to himself. Bat Albano, perceiving his 
thought, added, *' I was talking to the flowers over yon- 
der," and as he spoke he pointed to a grassy slope 
southward of the road — "only with the flowers; that 
was all." 

How much of second-sight and second-hearing was 
in this peculiar exaltation of the senses I leave the 
reader to imagine. 

Erelong they came to a country road, crossing the 
main one and much narrower, along which peasants, 
festively clad, w^ere driving fat cattle, and bearing on 
paniered mules and asses various articles of merchan- 
dise, as though to a' village fair. They made music as 
they went on horns and drums, guitars and tambourines. 
Oar travellers joined them, not so much to visit the 
fair as because they were anxious to penetrate deeper 
into the interior of the country. " Beyond the village 
where the fair is held I think the country will grow 
wilder and more solitary," said the artist. " Let us 
go that way then," answered Eolian. And on they 
went. 



60 The Add in on Reunion Papers. 

It proved more than a village, viz., an ancient mar- 
ket-town, with some four or five streets crossing each 
other at right angles, v/ith an old cathedral standing 
on an eminence in the centre.^ As they neared it the 
crowds increased ; every tributary lane and pathway 
poured down its own stream of visitants. 

They made their way among lowing oxen and laugh- 
ing country girls, and among the motley booths where 
boys were leaping and blowing their penny trumpets, 
straight up to the vestibule of the old cathedral. 

There, on the lowest step (he dared not go any 
further), crouched a poor wretch, with a strong but 
thin steel chain which extended from his right arm to 
his ankle. His squalid beard, haggard features, and 
wild-rolling eye were fearful to look on. Besides, he 
was paler than a corpse. He was oioiu a penitent, but 
having once committed murder, he had caused the 
offending sword to be forged into a chain, and had 
made a vow never to enter under any roof or visit the 
interior of any church as long as life remained. 

■ As this man looked up from his rosary, and his eyes 
fell upon the countenance of the artist, he seemed 
strangely moved, for his thin lips trembled convul- 
sively, and he exclaimed, " So heavenly innocent !" and 
lifting up his hands, wrung them in agony, causing the 
links of his chain to rattle as he did so, " Oh ! sweet 
youth, intercede for me in there before the altar." 
Albano promised he would not forget him in his 
prayers, whereat tears of joy ran down the murderer's 
marble cheeks, and he cried, " Heaven bless thee, good 
angel, bless thee a millionfold !" 

That morning, for the first and last time in his life, 
he partook of the Holy Communion, and as he did 



Tlie Addison Rritnion Fapers. 01 

so, his inner chambers of imagery became transfig- 
ured ; his brain was converted into a picture-gallery, 
in which, to the mind's eye, scene after scene of the life 
of Christ arose in due succession and orderly sequence, 
but so rapidly as almost to appear simultaneous, and 
so vivid that actual bodily vision could scarcely have 
presented aught more impressive. It was a magical 
inner-moving panorama, colored to the life, faithful to 
history, costume and locality, instinct with the full 
spirit of the Holyland, and embracing in their whole 
extent the fifteen Mysteries included in the "Rosary of 
Our Lady," viz : the five Joyful, the five Dolorous, and 
the five Glorious Mysteries. 

With a sort of inner vibratory motion, the Word (for 
the pictures were accompanied by a vivid recollection 
of the words spoken as well as the acts done by our 
Lord) — the Word went thrilling through his very bones, 
as though the hard skeleton itself was about to be 
melted and transfigured into the spiritual body spoken 
of by the Apostle — a foretaste, albeit, of the great 
change which shall come over us at the Final Day. 
And if the philosophic Ohladni, by various musical 
touches, could cause light bodies placed upon a plate 
of glass to assume various forms according to the 
changes in the music, is it unreasonable to believe that 
on the morning of the world's second birth and new- 
creation, the bodies of all good men shall, by a new 
music of the spheres, arise new and glorified, though 
the particles which at first composed them shall in the 
meantime have gone through a million changes and 
transformations ? 

For more than an hour after the services were ended, 
Albano and his friend remained in the cathedral ab- 



62 The Addison Reunion Papers. ' • 

sorbed in deep meditation. When at last he came out 
•into the larger temple of creation, his former spirit of 
joyousness came back upon him with full force. From 
early boyhood he had been fond of all athletic exer- 
cises, and ever had stood first amongst his schoolmates 
in all games requiring activity or sleight of hand. 
He now felt this early passion return upon him, and 
with it more than his wonted power. 

In a gr«en meadow within sight of the old market- 
town, merry groups were assembled, celebrating the 
day with all sorts of sports and pastimes. The young 
friends went down among them, and for a time looked 
on as inactive spectators. At last, Albano, being near 
a band of archers, asked an old bowman who stood idly 
by looking at the more youthful combatants, to lend 
him his weapon for a few moments, adding that for 
many years past his hand had been out of practice. 

The white-bearded archer courteously handed him a 
bow. It was like its owner an old one, and somewhat 
the worse for wear. Albano taking it, discharged an 
arrow in the air, and said, " 'Tis old and something 
worn, but I think it will do." He then selected from 
the quiver, which, as usual, contained arrows plumed 
with feathers from different wings, two shafts which 
he thought best suited to the soft v/ind then blowing 
across the meadow. Then all the youths made trial 
by turns. Some shot wide of the how-hand, some wide 
of the shaft -hand ; not one was so fortunate as to hit 
the white. And when Albano at the very first shot 
accomplished this latter feat, and at the second clove 
in twain the wooden pin placed in the centre of the 
butt, loud shouts of applause arose among the specta- 
tors, who admired his beauty as much as they apprer 
ciate(^his skill. 



Tlie Addison Reunion Fax)crs. G3 

It was the same way among the quoit -players ; the 
same among the wrestlers ; the same among the foot- 
racers, — in all these games he won the prize. All the 
time, too, so great was his appearance of modesty, so 
gentle, so angelic was the expression of his counte- 
nance, that all on the meadow — even those he had 
overcome — were completely enamored. At last, when 
about to depart, they all pressed around and begged 
him (especially the maidens) to tarry longer with 
them, which when he mildly declined, one asked him 
whither he was bound, to which he with a rosy smile 
answered, ** On a far journey, friend," at the same time 
pointing upwards. This was spoken with his head 
directed back over his shoulder, in the act of receding ; 
and I can't tell what it was, but there was some- 
thing in his manner of saying it which affected those 
rude men even to tears. 

About- noonday they could, see from the summit of 
an eminence over which the road led, a broad extent 
of forest- land a few miles in advance, which they sup- 
posed to be the hunting-grounds of some rich noble- 
man- of the island. They were right: it belonged to 
a young lord who resided half the year in Fumagosta 
and the other half in his own woods. " I hear their 
horns now," said Albano, " though they seem from the 
sound to be a long way off. When I was a boy I once 
joined a party of huntsmen in the Friuli mountains, 
and so exquisite was the pleasure I enjoyed during 
that excursion, that ever since all that relates to the 
noble sport of woodcraft has been peculiarly dear to 
me.. In sooth I almost fear that I still prize these 
joys of the earth too highly, and that I am not yet 
sufficiently weaned from this beautiful world, my birth- 



64 TIl e Addis o n R e u r i o n Pap e r s . 

star, upon which the sun shines so lovingly. But why 
is it that ail pastimes which are accompanied with 
some personal danger and give rise to hair-breadth 
escapes, are so much more exhilarating at the time and 
so much more pleasing in recollection? Is it not be- 
cause they border nearer upon the confines of the in- 
visible world, the spirit-land? Ay, it is this that 
gives them their peculiar zest, that makes the blood 
of the huntsman and the warrior tingle in their veins, 
and that often causes men of the noblest blood to be 
the most ready to expend it." 

Just then along a by-road to the left came the gal- 
lant company, the sound of whose horns had excited 
the above reflections. They were prancing along over 
the green lane, laughing and singing in merry dis- 
order, armed with boar-spears and cross-bows and 
fowling-pieces. There must have been more than two 
hundred of them. Their horses seemed as full of life 
and spirit as themselves, and were all gorgeously capa- 
risoned. Some of the huntsmen had on their hands 
embroidered hawking-gloves, on which were perched 
fierce birds, hooded and hung with silver- bells. All 
garbed in forest-green, they pranced along, some peal- 
ing on their horns, some reining up their steeds to 
make them ramp, some pausing for a moment to lift 
huge drinking-horns to their bearded lips, some ele- 
vating in air upon their spears the trophies of the 
chase, and all so full of bravery and mirth, from their 
gaudy plumes down to their golden spurs, that a 
thoughtful person meditating on the many miseries 
that exist in this lower world, might almost wonder 
how so spletidid a pageant could really spring into 
existence. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 65 

And there at the end of the lane, looking at them, 
were the poor poet and the painter, the one standing, 
the other seated on a donkey. Some of the huntsmen 
seemed disposed to scoff at them, but their leader (he 
was the nobleman of Fumagosta to whom the forest- 
lands belonged), checked them by saying : " Comrades, 
have ye not had sport enough in the woods this morn- 
ing but ye must needs make game of two poor travel- 
lers, who seem weary and wayworn ? Gentle stran- 
gers," he continued, addressing himself to the two 
friends, " we shall have a sylvan repast to-day in the 
heart of yonder forest : will you not honor us with 
your presence? " 

The travellers accepted the invitation, and though 
from their mode of journeying and their unostenta- 
tious attire they formed an ill-assorted addition to the 
gallant cavalcade, they went along jocundly and with 
no sense of shame. 

In the centre of the forest was a pool nearly circular 
in shape, and overarched with lofty tree-tops. The 
margin was carpeted with greensward. All around 
tables were spread, loaded with the results of the pre- 
vious day's chase. 

The feast was all ready when they arrived ; grooms 
took charge of the horses, pages bore round silver 
ewers and clean towels, servants were in attendance 
to wash their hands and feet and to anoint their hair 
with fragrant essences, and ere ten minutes they ad- 
dressed themselves with keen appetite to the repast. 

As far as the pleasure of eating v/as concerned, I am 
sure Albano never enjoyed a dinner as he did that, 
everything had such a genuine game -flavor about it, 
and smacked so of the very core of the good green- 



G6 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

wood. Wild-boar and venison, heron and river- 
fowl, all cooked in their own rich juices, all steaming- 
hot from the fire, all animals that had been fattened 
by their own natural food and kept in perfect health 
by constant exercise. Eolian could scarce repress a 
smile when he marked his friend engaging in the 
pleasures of the rapast with such unmistakable gusto. 

Everything was in keeping. Servitors with long 
peacock feathers fanned away the flies. Wood-horns 
at difi'erent distances were answered by musicians with 
softer instruments stationed near. The very grand 
old trees nodded and waved in time to the melody ; 
at least it seemed so to many whose brains were already 
heated by too frequent quaffs from their deep drink- 
ing-horns. 

The two friends, though often urged to drink, for a 
long time confined themselves to pure water. At last 
Albano asked if they had out there in the woods such 
a thing as a common-sized wine-glass, such as ladies 
are wont to sip from ; and upon two such, after long 
search, being produced, he said: "I do not know my 
friend's rule, but for myself, three of these constitute 
my limit. Signers ! your good healths, and a long and 
happy life to you all," and as he spoke he arose from 
his seat, and waving his hand gracefully, took in the 
whole sylvan circle at a glance. All seemed carried 
away by the unusual sweetness of his voice and coun- 
tenance — all except one man. This was a broad- 
shouldered, bull-necked fellow, rather short when 
standing, but when sitting, with comparatively long 
body and arms, who from the first had been disposed 
to scoff at the two friends (Albano had observed him 
as they rode along often looking back at them with a 



The Addison Reunion Papers. G7 

satyr-like grin). He kad a long foxy beard, splay- 
mouth and red eyelids, which he kept snapping con- 
tinually ; when he laughed his teeth looked tusky 
and swinish ; in eating he ravened his food with the 
voracity of a wild beast, and in drinking knew neither 
measure nor moderation. Well, this man, by this time 
deeply under the influence of liquor, commenced bit- 
ing his thumb and looking over at Albano, at the same 
time using insulting and rude language. These de- 
monstrations were no sooner observed by the Lord of 
Fumagosta than he arose like a flash, and unsheathing 
a long, sharp wood-knife, and shaking it till its blade 
quivered in the sunlight, he cried in a voice of thun- 
der : " Caitiff, beware ! Another word like that, and 
this steel-blade quivers in thy heart. Dastard ! Ho, 
huntsmen, strip him of belt, plume, and bugle-horn, 
and " 

Albano with a soft smile quietly took the blade from 
the hand of its owner, and placing it on the table, 
looked, with a bland v/ave of the hand, towards the of- 
fender, and without uttering a word, by the sole force 
of a glance and a gesture at once disarmed the fury of 
the master and put to shame the brutishness of the fol- 
lower. The latter crouched like a chidden hound, 
with his eyes on his plate in dumb sulkiness. 

" Signer," Albano said, " this time I will intercede 
for him, and am sure the same thing will not occur 
again. And all of you, my good, kind friends, I call 
upon all of you and conjure you as you love your own 
souls, never to abuse that gift of God, the generous 
juice of the grape. Even the Saviour of the world 
appears to have sanctioned its use in due moderation and 
on certain occasions ; but who does not know, who has 



68 The Addison Reunion Pa]pers. 

not seen how an excessive indulgence in it may render 
it the foulest curse of humanity, and sinks man below 
the level of the brute ? This is an old truism which 
I need not offend your good taste by enlarging on. 
For the very delicious wine with which you have hon- 
ored me to-day, I thank you heartily ; richer or better 
it has never yet been my lot to taste. And you, my 
noble host, permit me to drink your good health a 
second time, and to return my warmest returns for your 
generous hospitality. This feast has to me been fraught 
with unwonted enjoyment, and did the Heavens 
permit, I should almost be tempted to don a suit of 
green, take hawking- glove and bugle-horn, and live 
with you in the woods for a season. It is a kind of 
life for which I always have felt a great fondness. 
But far other must be my lot. Like a snapped and 
broken bowstring, this mortal body shall soon be laid 
aside as no longer of any service. Ere nightfall, hunt- 
ing-grounds very different from these must be visited. 

Farewell — forever ? No, no, — perhaps " He 

pointed with his forefinger upward for more than a minute 
without finishing the sentence, and ere his hand fell to 
his side he gave it a wave, at the same time bowing 
his head quite low, and exclaiming solemnly, " Peace 
be with ye ! '' He seemed about to take his leave, 
when taking up his glass again and filling it, he said, 
" Let us all drink together in honor of the day ; and 
ere we do so, permit me to observe by way of part- 
ing speech, that everything depends upon due measure 
and moderation whether there shall be an ascension to 
the brain of a spirit of good or of a spirit of evil." 

Without another word the travellers took their de- 
parture. Not so much Albano's words as a certain in- 



Til e A d d is on Re u n i o n Pa p ers. G 9 

efFable grace'and sweetness in his manner of uttering 
them, had produced a profound impression. In looking 
back as far as they could catch a view of the hunters 
through the openings between the huge trunks of the 
trees, they could see them standing about in groups and 
waving their hands in token of adieu. 

After travelling for two- hoars they came in sight of 
a small chapel, which, with its little portico, hung on 
the brow of a steep hill immediately above the road. 
Some country girls, v/ith their cheeks and eyes all 
aglow (they had been dancing), stood with flower-bas- 
kets in their hands on the airy portico, and tossed upon 
the passers-by showers of rose-leaves, some of which, 
in circling, fell upon Albano's face and rested in his 
clustering locks. They were singing Ascension hymns. 
The travellers round the hill ; church and singers 
disappear ; on their next view of it it is dimming away 
in the distance. 

" No matter," said Albano, " there's another one. 
I'm pleased to see that God has built a great many 
houses along this road." He pointed with his fore- 
finger forward, and ran his eye along it as if taking 
sight at some object a great distance off. Eolian, 
though his vision was strong, could see nothing like a 
church there, but yet was certain that his friend could 
not be mistaken. ''And every God's house," resumed 
the artist, musingly, " has its little garden attached ; 
and each garden has its seeds, which one day will 
bloom into flowers so heavenly bright that angels will 
be glad to pluck them. Eolian, in that little church, 
just before the main altar, there is room for one more 
grave : there bury me. You will find in my purse 
money sufficient to meet my funeral expenses and 



70 Th e Addison R euiiio n Fa p er s. 

leave about one hundred gold bezants over. Take these 
with you to Fumagosta and present them to the Or- 
phans' Asylum." 

He spoke in his usual bland, sweet tone of voice, 
and calmly placed his purse in his friend's reluctant 
hand. Eolian could not restrain his tears. 

It was now about four o'clock ?. M. The sun had 
become oppressively hot, the air dead-still ; there was 
•not breeze enough astir to shake a harebell or an 
aspen-leaf. "The earth," said Albano, "like a boy's 
top, has spun herself asleep. Only a low dull hum, a 
droning monotone, scarce audible, lets us know that 
she is not dead among her sister-planets. Her very 
heart seems asleep ; and as of late a strange kind of 
sympathy has existed between my heart and hers, -I 
feel creeping, melting over me, the sweetest — Oh, my 
friend, the sweetest, rosiest sleep I 've ever felt since 
my mother rocked me on her knee in Venice." 

As he spoke his head began to droop, and his eyes 
glowed like coals of fire which are dying away in their 
own embers. Languidly, languidly his long lashes 
seemed ready to drop together, but his cheek had 
more than its wonted bloom upon it; a sort of an in- 
fantine glow, a sanguine and relaxing ardor, such as 
often comes over healthy children a few moments before 
they are about to sink to sleep, slackened his muscles, 
rounded still more the outlines of his face, and added 
a more roseate hue to his complexion. 

" I smell poppies up yonder," he said, pointing to a 
small elevation in front of them. Then sliding from 
the back of the donkey, he was supported by his 
friend to the spot indicated. One moment more, and 
he was lost in the deep w^orld of slumber. 



The Addison Reunion Fajicrs. VI 

There was a storm coming on. That was evident 
from the peculiar feel of the atmosphere, although as 
yet but one small cloud was visible to the eastward, 
right opposite the sun, and travelling in the same 
direction, but very fast, and increasing in size as it 
came onward. The sun himself, as yet veiled only 
by his own splendor, was like a midnight sun as seen 
in polar lands in midsummer. A universal hush came 
over all Nature. 

Eolian sat himself down beside his friend among the 
poppies. A similar drowsiness came over him too, 
but he strove hard against it, and sat with his elbow 
on h^s knee and his chin resting on the palm of his 
hand, watching the approach of the cloud. A white 
dove on silken wings went sailing over the hill- top, 
then another, then two more, and all four circled 
down on the other side ilutteringly. 

For more than fifteen minutes did Eolian remain in 
the same position, without moving, save that every 
now and then he turned his eyes from the cloud to 
mark the beautiful expression of his friend's counten- 
ance. *' If this indeed be the sleep which comes before 
the last," he said to himself, " an angel could not enjoy 
a sweeter." 

See ! the donkey has ceased browsing, and stands 
snuffing the air with distended nostril and trembling 
in every limb. The cloud which at first was as white 
and scarcely larger than the moon when seen by day, 
has swelled up tower upon tower and bastion upon 
bastion, with ever and anon a flash like the discharge 
of artillery, accompanied by a low muttering of thun- 
der. The scolloped edges nearest the sun gleam daz- 
zlingly white, whilst the parts that are in shadow, from 



72 Th e Add i s o n R c u n i o n Fa p evs. 

their great opaqueness glooci into blackness deeper 
than that of smoked iron. 

It looked as if the ptorm were every moment about 
to burst over them. Eolian placed his hand softly on 
his friend's shoulder and shook him. " I am coming," 
said Albano, passing his hand across his eyes and start- 
ing rapidly to his feet. With his head bent backward, 
and one hand extended upwards, as if about to graep 
another hand reaching down from above, he said in a 
broken and tremulous kind of whisper : " Take me, 
take me, I am awake and ready." 

Lo ! in the blackest part of the cloud a broad fiery 
opening, then the first awful, deafening, instanta- 
neous, earth-shaking explosion of thunder. Dismally, 
as the lower strata of cloud melted away and the sun 
shone partially through, did the sky assume a dark- 
red lurid tintj as if looking upon the earth with an eye 
of gloomy wrath. The very grass, before so cheerfully 
green, saddened in hue, and seemed to sympathise 
with the convulsion of Nature. The winds, furiously 
swelling into hurricanes, rushed from opposite points 
of the heavens; floods of rain deluged the earth, as 
if storm-spirits had suddenly emptied vast reservoirs 
of water ; crash upon crash came down the upturned 
tumbling trees; the floating volcanoes overhead, dis- 
gorging mingled fire and water, rolled over the sun's 
disk and darkened the atmosphere. 

Then for a few moments came a partial lull. Then 
a whirlwind came sweeping over the hill, and lifting 
the two friends ofi" their feet, tossed them some twenty 
or thirty feet asunder ; but soon they stood again side 
by side, awaiting calmly and prayerfully the event of 
the storm. 



Th e Add is o n R e u n io n Pap ers. 73 

Anotlier cleaving asunder of the clouds, another 
earth-heaving explosion. This was followed by effects 
nearly similar to the first. 

" The third time the cloud opens," said Albano, "my 
Father will take me to Himself. I thought I saw just 
now Elijah's fiery chariot rolling downwards, but 
when the flash was over it disappeared. Farewell, 
Eolian." He kissed him warmly on the lips. " Thou 
hast been a dear, kind friend to me. To-day has been 
the happiest of my life. This is a beautiful world, and 
a million-fold more so when the soul is reconciled to 
God through Christ. It has been to me a sweet flow- 
ery playground. "When the fiery horses appear again 
I shall leave thee. Don't forget to pray often that we 
may meet in heaven. Farewell, farewell.*' 

He kissed him again more warmly than he had done 
before; then elevating both hands and looking up- 
wards, he exclaimed: "Almighty Father, blot out my 
sins from the book of Thy remembrance, and do with 
me as Thou thinkest fit in Thy tender mercy." 

The cloud opened a third time. A fiery flash gleamed 
athwart the deluge ; both fell to the earth, Albano 
never to rise again, Eolian stunned and deprived of 
his senses. 

How long he remained in that situation he did net 
know, but when he recovered his consciousness the 
storm had lulled ; the westering sun had transformed 
all rain-drops on the trees into fiery opal ; one-half the 
rainbow's arch was reared, the other half in the act of 
forming ; birds opened again their painted wings ; 
clouds of unimaginable beauty, like liquid crystallisa- 
tions seen by the solar microscope, went, changing their 
shapes and colors, over the welkin, each change love- 
5 



Til e Ad d is o n R e u n i on Paj)ers. 

Her than the last ; the air, purified by lightning, was 
perfumed with the expressed essences of flowers and 
the volatile odors of tropical plants ; the whole heaven 
was brightened and draped anew, the whole earth 
washed, sweetened and beautified like an Eastern bride. 

Eecovering bv degrees from his swoon, the young 
poet remained for some time on his back in a sort of 
v/aking trance, unable or unwilling to call to mind- the 
circumstances which preceded the cessation of con- 
sciousness. It seemed to him as though he had been 
sinking down, down below the centre of the earth, 
yea, lower still, and at last had come out into sunlight 
on the other side. Then he thought he had been trav- 
elling through a chaos of awful shapes and shadows, 
tumbling headlong down precipices ten million feet 
deep ; now dashed down roaring cataracts to unimag- 
inable depths ; now walking on the bottom of a surg- 
ing ocean ; now swimming on seas of fire ; now rapt up 
with inconceivable rapidity in the vortex of a whirl- 
wind and tossed above the highest clouds ; now wafted 
beyond the bounds of the solar system on the tail of a 
blazing comet. For some time after he began to recover 
from the effects of the lightning, he knew not where 
he was, or who he was, or v/hat he had been before the 
thunder-storm. 

The rainbow was the first object that attracted his 
attention ; then the clouds, then the tree-tops. At 
last the films cleared ofi*; his brain gradually recovered 
its healthy action. He thought of his friend ; he looked 
around. There lay Albano, pallid but beautiful, his 
eyes wide open, his countenance serene. The light- 
ning had not defaced aught of his exquisite beauty, or 
marred in the least the fine outline of his sculptured 



The A d d ISO }i Re it n i o n Pa pers, 75 

limbs. His hands were calmly clasped, a,9 if he had 
passed away in the act of prayer. There seemed to 
have been no violent movements or convulsive death- 
throes. The only mark of violence about him, as in 
the case of the Professor in Russia who, in imitation of 
Franklin, drew down the lightning from the clouds, was 
a small red spot in the middle of his forehead. 

Eolian sat gazing on him till sundown, yea, longer, 
until the stars came forth in the sky. He then rose 
and looked around him, and as he did so there came 
over him a sense of awful solitude. He was alone with 
his dead friend in a strange part of the country. Shall 
he remain all night with the corpse, counting the 
weary hours by the rising and setting of stars? 
Distant sheep-bells ? Hark ! he hears them. He sees 
fires such as shepherds are wont to light by night when 
watching by their flocks. He throws a cloak over the 
corpse and hastens towards them. But his path is 
obstructed by fallen trees and swollen torrents ; he is 
unable to grope his way in the darkness ; he returns, 
and determines to remain until moon-rise. 

The moon was in her wane ; she did not rise till mid- 
night. About that time he heard the chime of church- 
bells far to the eastward, and he had no doubt but 
that it came from the edifice in which his friend had 
directed his body to be buried. Slow and melancholy 
the moon moved up, as if mourning over the havoc pro- 
duced by the storm. Again Eolian started in search 
of the shepherds, threading his way around vast pros- 
trate trunks, scrambling over rough surfaces, and 
wading through turbulent w^ater-courses. 

At last he reached one of those vast flocks of sheep 
so often met with in Eastern lands ; and three or four 



76 The 



Addison Reu n i o n I ^ap ers 



of the shepherds returning with him to the dead body, 
kindly took it up and bore it to one of their tents, 
where it remained until evening of the following day. 
But before that, news of his death having reached the 
hunters with whom they had dined the day before, the 
whole sylvan band came in a body to attend his fune- 
ral. Also were present some black friars from a neigh- 
boring convent. 

So about nighfall they all started from the tents to 
convey the body in solemn procession to the church 
which he had himself designated. In advance went the 
black friars, two by two, bearing funeral torches, and 
chanting solemnly. Then came the body with the face 
uncovered, borne by a band of youthful shepherds, who 
officiated by turns in this melancholy duty. Eolian 
followed, apart, with unsteady steps and drooping 
head. Then the huntsmen, without plumes in their 
caps, trailing their lances, and ever and anon sounding 
a mournful note on their horns in answer to th« chants 
of the friars. Their horses were shrouded in deep 
mourning from the tip of the ear down to the fetlock. 

Arrived in sight of the church, a small company of 
priests came out to meet them, one bearing a cross, 
some holding waxen tapers, some waving censers. In- 
side, the aisles and pillars were hung with black. As 
Albano had foretold, space was found before the main 
altar for one more grave, and into this, after all due 
ceremonies were performed over the body, it was slowly 
lowered, amidst the peal of the organ and the ringing 
of church-bells. 

Peace be to his memory. 

All night Eolian remained in the church, absorbed 
in earnest prayer. Just before sunrise he came forth 



Th e Addison Re u n io n Pa pers. 77 

into the open air, and was not a little soothed and de- 
lighted to find that the church, from the beauty of its 
site and prospect, was well suited to serve as the burial- 
place of a young artist. On one side a distant range 
of mountains, with rosy clouds hanging over them • 
on the other a far-off view of the city of Fumagosta, 
with the blue Mediterranean beyond. 
Peace be to his memory. 



78 The Addison Reunion Papers. 



CRITIQUE, 

Addeessed to the " Addison Reunion." 

Well, liere we are again to-niglit : 

Indeed, it is a handsome sight, 

To see so many pretty girls 

Decked out in ribbons and false curls, 

With penciled brows and eyes so bright, 

And faces fair — with lily-white ; 

For now, you know, we're strictly taught 

That nature must give place to art. 

The gentSj sure, we must not neglect, 

For 'tis their nature to expect 

Some praise, e'en though they don't deserve ; 

But compliments they dearly love. 

And as I have my part to play, 

ril "stoop to conquer" in that way, 

And give them all the praise that's due 

Their lordships, and a deal more too. 

Last Monday I was gratified 

To see how many memhers tried 

To do their paris^ as members should 

(For we should all do what we could) ; 

And out of twenty-one or two, 

I think THREE read, — now, thai will do ! 

I'm very sure you'll all agree 

On this first point, at least, with me. 

The first piece was read very well, 
Although the gent cut quite a swell; 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 7 

Yet, he is young, and we must try 
To pass his imperfections by ; 
Besides, if you'd been in his place, 
And h*ad, as he had then, to face 
Two eyes so ^^ deeply, darkly blue,'' 
I think you'd been quite flustered too. 

The next piece, read by Emma G., 

Was just as sweet as it could be ; 

And could it have been otherwise, 

Then I'll not dare to criticise. 

Yet there were some who laughed and talked, 

And others too who danced and walked ; 

So I am sure they have not heard 

In all that piece one single word. 

The next, by Mr. T. 0. Grouse 
(The finest reader in the house), 
I must confess I did enjoy 
Intensely. He's a jolly boy. 
And though he's spoiled a little hit, 
I'm sure he will get over it, 
Especially if Miss McK. 
Will just a word of counsel say. 

Miss Katie W d — well, I'll be brief — 

Sang her song sv/eetly, " Ivy Leaf"; 
But had she, with a quiet grace, 
Resumed once more her hiding-place 
Behind Miss Emma, I expect 
'Twould with us all had more effect. 

A word now to our President : 
Surely he must from heaven been sent ; 



80 The Addison lieunion Papers. 

Indeed, I'd not be mucli surprised 
To find him an angel in disguise — 
So kind and good, zo patient too. 
Say all I will, I cannot do • 

Him justice ; but this much I know : 
Some one would like him for her beau. 

But though he is so very kind, 
You'll seldom, if at all, there find 
Good order : as for instance now, 
Just listen and I'll tell you how 

A Mr. E performed his part. 

And how a Doctor too got caught. 
Dear me ! it is a silly way 
For men like little "Boys to play. 

These two Gents in a corner went. 
On fun and mischief both intent. 
When all at once a grand uproar 
Was heard, and flatly on the floor 
The Doctor all bewildered sat : 
Ah ! naughty George, did you do that ? 
I'm sure you meant no harm at all. 
Yet did that help Joe in his fall ? 

The dining-room seemed^very gay. 
For there Miss E. B. held her sway ; 
And with her .friend, the merry Kate, 
Planned mischief at an awful rate. 
They pinched and worried Tommie 0., 
Who got as mad as mad could be ; 
Nor did they cease until he went 
With out cries to the President. 



The Addison 11 (•union Fapers. 81 

Well, tliis is our Society ! 
What would a stranger say, could he 
Look unobserved, some Monday night, 
Into our midst, and see the sight 
I saw ? Don't you think his eyes 
Would beam with wonder and surprise? 
But, " brevity's the soul of wit," 
So with a bow to all I'll quit. 

Yours, Not a Bit, 



5* 



82 Tlic Addison Reunion Papers. 



LINES ADDRESSED TO THE POETESS, 
*^NOT A BIT." 

May Heaven bless thee, poetess, 
And may thy verses ne'er grow less ; 
With harmless wit and merry mood 
Expose the vain and check the rude. 
Thus far thy praise I too would sing ; 
But when thy muse on Fancy's wing 
Would rise, and soar even to the skies, 
To sing of angels in disguise — 
This word of counsel (by your leave), 
Fair poetess, from me receive : 
Don't turn the angel to a beau, 
It mars the pretty figure so ; 
But if this change thou wilt allow, 
In glad submission I will bow : 
Be thou, dear friend, the angel meant ; 
Thy heau shall be our President, 
Or some one else with heart and wit 
To sign himself ^^ Thine, every hit'' 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 



^vA^ELCOME" TO JUNE. 

June, June, beautiful June ! 

Oh, how I welcome thy coming once more ! 
Never to me didst thou come too eoon, 

Nor tarry half long enough, I am sure. 

Flowers, flowers, pretty bright flowers ! 

Shining like precious gems well set in green ; 
Decking the fields, woods, gardens and bowers, 

Forming June's lovely appare], I ween. 

Birds, birds, sweet-singing birds! 

Filling the air with melodious notes ; 
Teaching us lessons without using words, 

"Warbling them forth from their delicate throats. 

Streams, streams, gay laughing streams ! 

Eippling along from the hills through the vales ; 
Sparkling like emerald threads in the sunbeams, 

Creating joyousness that never fails. 

June, June, soul-cheering June ! 

Loveliest month of all months in the year ! 
With thy bright flowers, thy birds all in tune, 

And streams so refreshing, I welcome thee here ! 

J. T. W. 



84 Til c A del in on Reu n i o ri Fa p e r s , 



OUR LITTLE QUEEN. 

Oh, come to our home, for there may be found 
A dear little Queen whom our love hath crown'd ; 
Her sweet soul shines through her eyes of blue, 
Loving and innocent, kind and true. 

Her hair is her crown, so wavy and bright. 
Like a sunbeam of gold when touched by the light : 
Our heart is the throne on which she doth reign, 
And the household all are her loyal train. 

Fair is our Queen with her crown of gold, , 
And how we serve her need never be told ; 
Her brothers brave are her knights so true, 
And she rules us all with her eyes of blue. 

Hail to our Queen with the gleaming crown ! 
May never a cloud o'er her pathway frown ; 
"We'll try our bravest to guard her from ill, 
And with love and joy her life we will fill. 

Even those from "afar have felt her bright sway. 
And have bowed their heads to walk in her way ; 
But though she wdeldeth a sceptre so bold, 
Our dear little Queen is but one year old, 

Mrs. a. B. 



The Addison Reunion Papers, 85 



A VISIT TO V/ESTERN, MD., COLLEGE, 

With a group of young Ladies and Gentlemen, to whom 
these lines are resipectjully inscribed. 

A EiFT in the clouds, where the light peeps through 

With a golden tinge and a streak of blue, 

Fair sign that the eve will be clear and red 

In spite of the clouds which hang overhead, 

Invites the fair maid from her lone retreat 

To a promenade on the busy street, 

And the ardent youth it calls from his task, 

Eejoiced in the smile of beauty to bask. 

Miss Maggie, Eliza, Mary, and Em, 
Miss Fannie and Jennie added to them, 
With HeriDg and Norris, gallant young beaux, 
And my humble self, our party compose. 
Miss Maggie's face now grows bright as the sky. 
And her bosom heaves with a tender sigh. 
All right, Miss Maggie, you needn't to blush 
When we speak of '^Fish,'' B.nd tell us to hush. 
For 'tis proper and right such Fish should be 
Caught in " the net" by a " mermaid" like thee. 
Mary and Jennie are rivals, it seeras. 
Figuring largely in Sailor-boy dreams ; 
And Miss Fannie looks as sweet as a bride, 

With N so gallant and gay by her side ; 

While Miss Eaama, the undisciplined elf 

(If her hair had been curled), looked like herself. 

The merry group this that looked from the height 
Of the College tower on the scene so bright, 



86 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Which seemed as we glanced with wondering eyes 
Like a grand old picture hung from, the skies. 
The mountains are blue in their misty veil, 
And the golden clouds in the soft air sail, 
Or stand like isles in a heavenly sea — 
Islands of beauty where spirits may be 
Bathing their wings in that heavenly sea — 
And the glowing cheek of the western sky 
Looks soft as a maid's when the blushes dye ; 
And the lingering sunbeams kiss "the clouds 
Thro' the golden mist which the mountain shrouds ; 
The song of the robin floats on the breeze, 
And the soft zephyrs woo the whispering trees, 
• Filling the air with their sweet melodies. 
"While we gaze entranced on the lovely scene, 
Softened in twilight the velvety green 
Which robes the hills in softest of plush, 
All earth seems to smile, and heaven to blush. 
Our illy-planned town so peacefully spread 
In straggling beauty o'er the valley's bed. 
Its white and its red contrasting with green, 
In the picture makes quite a beauteous scene ; 
While the dear familiar homesteads arise 
Through the twilight shadows to greet our eyes, 
And the manly game on the common green, 
A tableau vivant adds much to the scene. 
The eye wanders on o'er valley and hill, 
O'er forests and fields, to farm-house and mill ; 
Visions of beauty wherever we look, 
The wide-spreading vale, the murmuring brook 
Whose sweet voice is heard thro' the twilight shade, 
As near the fern rocks it flows to the gjade. 
Gentlv the shadows of evening descend, 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 87 

Softly and sweetly at eventide blend 

The beauties of earth, the brightness of heaven ; 

The birds' evening song in chorus all given, 

In harmony sweet, conspiring, it seems, 

To waft our spirits to the land of dreams. 

On fancy's swift wings we soar to the clouds, 

While a silvery mist the College enshrouds ; 

The girls are transformed to spirits with wings, 

And a golden harp with a thousand strings 

Is strung by invisible angel-hands, 

As we roam abroad in bright fairy-lands. 

A word or two more ere I close my rhyme. 

In years to come you will think of the time 

Which is passing now so swiftly away. 

When your hearts are light and your spirits gay. 

You will not forget Westminster, I know ; 

Then bear aTiind thought wherever you go 

For the humble scribe who loves you so well, 

He cannot find words his devotion to tell. 

This whispered prayer breathes warm from his heart : 

A life fall of joy, kind Heaven impart ; 

And when the gates of the spirit-land near, 

May life's evening-skies unclouded appear, 

The soul descending, as calmly to rest 

As Phoebus droops to the waves of the West. 

B. 



88 The Addison Reunion Papers 



TO A YOUNG LADY. 

Thou hast beauty. Beware !. 
It hath proven a snare 

To many much older than thou ; 
'Tis a Heaven-sent, gift, 
And thy soul it should lift 

To Him who doth all things bestow. 

Hast thou pleasure ? Then laugh ; 
Smiles are better by half 

. Than tears on the rose-bud of youth ; 
But in joys, still arise 
From the earth to the skies, 
On the wings of heavenly truth. 

Seek for wisdom : be sure 
Like a rock 'twill endure 

The surgings of life's roughest waves ; 
For 'tis lovely and strong : 
Like true woman, and song — 

The music the soul ever craves. 

Thus let all things combine 
Thy affections t'entwine 

More closely, more sweetly to heaven ; 
So thy heart shall be stayed, 
And thy sorrows allayed, 

Vvhile earth's purest pleasures are given. 



B. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 89 



OLD AND YOUNG IN THE SANCTUARY. 

The beautiful flowers (we sometimes say), 
As they bloom in the light of the open day, 
Seem a silent worship to God to pay : 
And this is a fancy I love full well. 
Yet a fact more pleasing I have to tell. 

In the temple are " flowers " exceeding fair, 
Now rendering audible worship there, 
In songs of praise and in holy prayer : 
" The blossoming almond " there is seen, 
And the "-rose," and the " lily/' too, I ween. 

Oh, what can be sweeter than blended song 
From the aged and young, the feeble and strong. 
As it trembles or rolls from their willing tongue 
To the praise of the God who gave them breath. 
And hath blessed them in life and will save them 
in death ? 

J. T. W. 



90 



Th e Add i s o n /t e u n i o n Pa p e r s . 



THE EMIGRANT V/AGON. 

By the Rev. David Yv^'ilson, M. D. 

It was on its way to the far, far West, 
The emigrant wagon " from Ohio," 
With oxen behind and horses abreast, 
Going, I believe, to " Old San Joe." 
I gazed on the team and I gazed on the men, 
On the woman and girls, the dogs and boys. 
On cattle and sheep, each in number ten, 
And listened anon to the curious noiee 
Which the jingle of pans and skillets made, 
Behind on the coupling pole displayed. 

I was a diffident, bashful boy. 

And averted my eyes as the girls looked back, 

And I started at the loud '* Wo-hoy," 

And the whip with its whizzing, stunning crack ; 

And the boys laughed outright at me. 

For doubtless they thought them richer far 

In visions of beauty I ne'er could see, 

Lying far west towards the evening star ; 

And I sighed as the merry train moved on, 

A moment only — and all were gone. 

And man that I am, I can ne'er forget 
The oxen and horses, the men and boys, 
And I wonder if all which their eyes have met 
Was the real of childhood's imaged joys ; 
Have griefs ne'er darkened their Western sky? 
Has wealth poured forth its shining store ? 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 91 

Do they ne'er turn an averted eye 

To the homes which, alas ! they shall Bee no more? — 

Claiming a longing, a last behest, 

A grave in all climes but the distant West. 

Whatever their fate, or where'er they dwell, 
Whether living or dead, let their fame be sung 
In numbers sweeter than e'er hath fell 
From a rustic bardling's faltering tongue ; 
Give honor and praise to the noble name, 
Who hath harnessed steam to the rolling car, 
And greater to him who hath chained the flame 
And winged our thoughts as the lightnings are : 
But before them all, " from Ohio," 
Was the emigrant wagon to " Old San Joe." 



92 The Addison Reunion Pa]}ers. 



A CHRISTMAS PAPER. 

'•' That season comes 
Wherein our Saviour's birth we celebrate : 
Hallowed and gracious is the time."— Siiakspearb. 

Up to tlie skies, 

This day, 
Let songs of gladness rise ; 

Homage pay 
To tlie glorious King 
"Who doth salvation bring ; 
Who openeth again 
The way of bliss to men. 

God of love ! 

From heaven above 

Thou didst send down 

Thine only Son 
To ransom us from guilt ; 
And now, our hopes are built, 

Securely on 

This sure foundation-stone ; 

God-man among us known, 

Did for our sins atone ! 

Jesus came — 

Blessed name ! — 
A-t the appointed time, 
And signs sublime. 

Foretold 

Of old. 
Attended Him. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 93 

Four thousand yeara had run 
Since time his race begun ; 
Earth had been a scene of blood 

Since the fall 

That ruined all ; 
But now the nations stood 
In pausing, silent mood ; 
Peace her flag unfurled 
Over all the world ; 
Dumb each heathen oracle ; 
Men wait to see a miracle : 
Some taught by revelation, 
Others by dim tradition, 

That the year 

Drew near 
When the world's wonder 

Would appear. 

Judah now no more, 
Fully as in days of yore, 
The kingly sceptre bore, 
And this was indication 
To the subject Jewish nation 
That the Shiloh was at hand ; 
Yet but few did understand 
The nature of the coming or the reign 
Which the Shiloh would assert, and would maintain. 

The Koman eagle's wing 

Was o'er the vassal king, 

Herod by name. 

When there came 

To an humble, pious priest, 

Whose years were well increased, 



94 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

While, in his place, 

With simple grace, 
He ministered within the temple grand ; 
And while without the people praying stand, 

An angel of the Lord, 

Who bore to him the word 

That holy prayer was heard, 
And that he, even he 
The favored sire should be 

Of a son. 

To forerun 

The long-expected one. 
And that he, even he 
Should the glorious Saviour be. 
And the angel gave a sign. 
That this message was divine. 

Gabriel, the angel sent 
From God, to Mary went — 

Virgin Mary, Joseph's spouse. 

And with message glad did rouse 

Her troubled soul from fear, 

Saying, Lo ! thy God is near, 
And to thee he will appear ; 

By the power of his spirit 

Thou shalt the gift inherit : 
He will give to thee a Son 
Who shall be the Holy One, 

Sprung from David's royal line, 

Human, yet no less Divine : 

x\nd thou his name shalt call 
Jesus, Saviour of all 

Who may His grace receive 

And shall on His name believe. 



Til e A d d ifi II Re u n i o n Fax> ers. 95 

Over the hill in haste, 
After due time had passed, 

Mary went, 

H-eaven sent. 
And there she saw the mother 
Of her promised Son's fore-runner — 
Fore-runner who, though yet unborn, 
Did leap for joy that blessed morn. 
Elizabeth this w^ondrous token took 
As indication sure that she would look 
Ere long upon the coming Lord, 
Evermore to be adored ; 
Even as now she gazed 
On Mary's face, and praised 
The God who over all the rest 
Of womankind had made her blest. 

And Mary humbly said, 

" Oh, my soul, too, is glad ; 
My spirit doth rejoice 

And magnify the Lord, 

My Saviour and my God, 

That He hath made the choice 

Of me, poor, lowly maid, 

To have such honor paid 

As thou, fair cousin, hast 

So tenderly expressed- 

But be all praise bestowed 

Upon my gracious Lord ; 

For He, the Mighty One, 

Hath all these wonders done." 

When the time was drawing near 
For the Saviour to appear, 



96 Th e Ad d i s on Re u n i o r Pa p e r s . 

Pious Joseph in alarm 

Anticipated harm ; 
But in a pleasant dream 
God's angel cheered him, 
Saying, " Mary shall be thine, 

And with thee it shall be well 
She shall bear a Son Divine, 

To be called Emmanuel : 
Jesus ! 
God with us." 

By Augustus's decree — 
Roman Emperor was he — 
That the world should taxed be, 
Joseph (sprung from David's house) 
With his well-beloved spouse, 
Must to Bethlehem repair 
(David's city) ; and while there, 
The days accomplished were 
When the Saviour should appear 
Oh, it was a glorious morn 
When Emmanuel was born ! 
Though in humblest form He came, 
" God with us " is still His name. 
In the caravanserai's recess 
Mary prints his brow with kisses. 
Then within the quiet manger 
Gently lays the blessed stranger. 

Out on Bethlehem's plains 

That night, 

Starry bright. 
Wondrous angel strains 
Brokie forth upon the air. 



The Addison Reunion Pai^ers, 07 

Which shepherds (watching there 
Over their flocks) heard, 
Bringing this word: 

" Fear not ! good news to you ; 
Great joy to every heart ! 
The Saviour's born ! Go view, 
E'en now for Bethlehem start. " 
Then suddenly a host 

Of angels join in song, 
And of God's mercy boast, 

In notes both loud and strong : 
" To God in the highest be glory, 

To men be there peace upon earth, 
Good-will now to all is the story 
We sing o'er the Saviour's birth." 
Then soaring back to heaven the angel went ; 
The shepherds, meanwhile, ready footsteps bent. 
Toward Bethlehem, where the infant Saviour lay, 
To v/hom, on seeing, they glad homage pay. 

And quiet Mary praised God in her heart 
For all the grace He did to her impart ; 
Above all else, that Jesus now was given 
To show poor wandering souls the way to heaven. 
celebrate the morn 
For aye, 
On which the Prince of Life and Peace v/as born ; 
Homage pay 
To the glorious King 
Who doth salvation bring ; 
Who openeth again 
The way of bliss to men : 
Let little children raise 
6 



98 TliG Addison Reunion Papers, 

Their voices in His praise ; 

Young men and maidens join 

To swell the song divine ; 

And age, thongli trembling near the tomb, 

Rejoice, rejoice, that the Lord has come ! 



ATTEK-PIECE. 

Days pass, eventful, by ; 
And now behold the pious pair 
Entering the holy place of prayer ; 

See the gentle Jesus lie, 
Sweetly resting on His mother's breast, 
As, doubtless, she on His did after rest. 
And as all mortals may, thro' grace, be blest 

To do, 

If they that grace pursue. 

The holy child now consecrated, 
See Simeon old, who long had waited, 
And to whom it was revealed 
That before his eyes were sealed 

In death's embrace, 

He should behold the face 

Of God's ov/n Son of grace ; 
See him take the Blessed in his arms ! 
And hear him filled with Jesus' heavenly charms, 
Exclaiming with a joyous heart, 

" Lord, let Thy servant now depart ; 

Let him depart in peace, 

His anxious throbbings cease, 

For Christ, the Saviour, 's come 

To gather sinners home ; 



The Addison Reunion Fapers. 99 

Freed from their sins, to dwell 

In heaven ! Oh, all is well! 
Lord, let Thy servant now depart, 
And live forever where Thou art ! " 

And Anna, too, a godly prophetess, 
Did, like old Simeon, thanks to God express. 
That she was favored to behold 
The Saviour all the seers foretold. 
Eastern sages from afar, 
Having seen a wondrous star, 
Which- they recognised to be 
That foreseen in prophecy. 
Hastened to Jerusalem, 
Inquiring where Judea's King was born, 
Since they had seen his star 
One beauteous morn. 

And since that star had led ttem hither on. 
*' 'Tis written. In Bethlehem,'' 
The Scribes replied. 
Then, with the star for guide, 
The wise men thither hied. 

On their own errand good ; 
On Herod's, stained with blood. 
But that they heard 
The warning angel's word, 
And turned their steps aside 
After they'd seen 

The holy Babe serene, \ 

And homage given 
To him,^he Prince of Heaven. 
Him wicked Herod would, 
If wicked Herod could. 



100 The A dd is o n R e u n i o ii Pap e r s . 

Have prematurely slain. 

But Jesus would remain ; 
And did, till He wrougtit fully out the scheme 
By which our ruined race He did redeem. 

Oh, matchless grace ! 

He saved our race 
From sin and shame by His own precious blood, 
Which, when the time had come, so freely flowed. 
Let all bow dov/n, adore and own him 
Saviour, God ! 

J. T. W. 



Ill e Addison Rcun l o r 'P'f 2'>crs. 101 



GIVE THE DEVIL HIS DUE. 

By Everett. 
THE MANUSCRIPT. 

[How tlie following manuscript came into my possession 
shall not remain a mystery. To say that it, all stained and 
damp and musty, was found carefully folded and scientifi- 
cally packed and sealed up in a bottle, floating hither and 
thither at sea, or that it was surreptitiously obtained from the 
dead-letter office, might possibly add to the interest of the 
story ; but this would be untrue, and untruth can have no 
place in connection with the facts related in these papers. 

I, the junior member of the former firm of Rogers & Twigg, 
attorneys-at-law, practising in Westminster, Maryland, found 
it among the private documents of my deceased partner. 

After reading it, I put it away in the pigeon-hole of an old 
desk, and soon it was entirely forgotten. ,One evening in 
early spring-tims, whilst wandering about the beautiful 

grounds of the cemetery near W , I was approached by a 

very old man, who I knew had filled the, to him, highly hon- 
orable and responsible post of village grave-digger for many 
years. 

The sight of him recalled to my mind, in some unaccount- 
able manner, the papers I had thus found ; and when he came 
up to me, I asked him where Jack Lawson was buried. He 
pointed to two graves in a rarely visited part of the place, and 
said: 

"There he be, sir; buried alongside o' Agnes Griffin, his 
sweetheart." 

Standing by their graves that bright summer day, and think- 
ing of their sad fate, I concluded that the true history of their 
lives would be of sufficient interest to all to justify me in pub- 
lishi^ig the manuscript which I had discovered, as in it alone 
could such a history be found. 



102 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Tlien, too, it is well that this true story sliould be given to 
the public, because there has for a long time existed an almost 
universal belief that Jack Lawson was in some way the cause 
of all the sorrow and trouble that bcfel Agnes Griffin. This 
is owing to the fact that his conduct has been heretofore 
judged without a knowledge of all the circumstances under 
which he acted. As this manuscript is published for the pur- 
pose of making those circumstances known and of correcting 
this erroneous judgment, it is called ''Give the Devil his 
Due."] 

CHAPTER I. 
THE WILL. 

*' What a world is this that we live in, 
To lend, or to spend, or to give in ! 
But to borrow, or beg, or get a man's own, 
It's the .hardest old world that ever was known." 

On the 23d day of May, in the year 1786, at mid- 
night, died my old friend Jacob Griffin. I am thus 
particular in stating the precise time, because in that 
very hour was born the one great trouble and difficulty 
of my life. Jacob, having been as a general thing 
a very prudent and sagacious man, left a will, of which 
I was the executor; but — and this was by no means either 
prudent or sagacious — he also left a handsome widow 
and a very pretty daughter, of whom he wished me to 
be the particular friend and guardian. I do not mean 
that he should have made away with them before his 
death in any illegal manner, but that he should have 
left them in the care of a man more competent to exe- 
cute the trust than was old Robert Rogers, attorn ey-at- 
law — a confirmed old bachelor and a crabbed old man. 

Keen, sharp, and shrewd, with a vast knov/ledg^ of 
the v/orld and of men, fond of money and saving to 



The Addison Rennlou Pajicrs. 103 

the last degree as was Jacob GrifEn, it was perfectly in- 
comprehensible to his friends why he had ever perpe- 
trated the egregious blunder of matrimony. 

Now that he is dead, however, it is a great comfort to 
us ail to think and to know that when he did it there 
were many little circumstances to show that he was 
temporarily deranged. 

A.S I knew him before his troubles began, he was a 
short, stout, middle-aged man, with a very bald head, 
very red face, and thin crooked legs, who wore an old, 
shabby, tobacco-stained suit .of broadcloth, a battered 
stove-pipe hat, unlaced shoes, and a v,ery dirty shirt. 
Suddenly, all this was changed. He grew careless about 
his business; sat in his office for hours sighing and 
writing mysterious notes on small, gilt-edged paper ; 
dressed in the best and most fashionably made clothes he 
could purchase ; wore patent-leather boots and kid 
gloves ; carried a gold-headed cane, and looked alto- 
gether like one of those city swells who are popularly 
supposed to have more on their heads than vi them. 
Then, too, he was frequently detected writing verses 
addressed ** To my dear Sarah," and containing such 
allusions to "Eyes of celestial blue," and "Locks of 
brightest gold," as surely no mortal man in his senses 
would ever even dream of. 

All this would have been very strong evidence of in- 
sanity before any jury in the l^nd not composed of 
equally insane married men and young fools. 

Be that as it may, however, Jacob Griffin had cer- 
tainly been married, and now I as surely had been 
left as the oae friend of his wife and the guardian of 
his daughter. I quickly discovered that the execution 
of the duties thus imposed upon me would prove no 
light task. 



104 Th e A d d is o n R e u n to n Pap ers. 

A cros3 baby is, I have frequently noticed, a very 
troublesome article to manage ; mules are proverbial 
for their obstinacy, and donkeys celebrated for their 
stupidity ; but all the babies, mules, and donkeys in the 
world put together would be more easily managed than 
were that widow and her only child. Not but that I 
could have worked along very easily with Agnes, for 
she was very amiable and sweet-tempered ; but it was 
the widow who made all the trouble : she was a born 
Tartar if ever there were one. Apparently she was sim- 
plicity itself, and her heart seemed to overflow with the 
warmest affections of human nature ; in reality, how- 
ever, it was with her as with an oak — the very hardest 
part of her was her heart. 

She was a pattern member of church, attended regu- 
larly to all her religious duties, and said her prayers so 
devoutly before an assembled congregation as to leave 
no doubt in their minds that she was continually on her 
knees at home, and that she was far on the highroad to 
heaven, travelling thither by express with no stop- 
pages at way-stations. Weekly she heard sermons on the 
sublimity of faith, hope, and charity ; she attentively 
listened, and conscientiouly practised in so far as to have 
faith in herself, hope for the success of her ambitious 
worldly aims, and charity for no one. She could kneel 
at the altar and pray for a poor sinner with the great- 
est unction, loudly crying, " 0"Lord! forgive him ;" and 
then, gathering up her skirts, sweep carefully past him 
kneeling humbly at the church door, as though she feared 
to touch his inferior clay v/ith her well-preserved* 
old-fashioned, elevenpenny-bit black merino dress. 
Of herself she had never thought to inquire, "Who art 
thou that judgest another ? " and in her opinion the only 



T1ie Addison Reunion lapcrs. 105 

mistaken words Christ ever uttered were, " Let him who 
is without sin himself cast the first stone." 

She had the " gift of gab" remarkably well developed, 
and could talk an old lawyer like myself out of his boots 
on any subject, in ten minutes by the watch. She knew 
a little law, a little medicine, a good deal of theology, 
was particularly well posted on all religious matters, 
was a first-class gossip, and could wind, up an hour's 
talk on church matters with the precious little bit of in- 
formation that Miss Sarah Jane Brown really did have 
a false tooth. So varied was her genius that I w^ould 
have been willing to wager a large amount on her being 
able to do anything, from knitting a stocking to manag- 
ing a complicated lawsuit. '^ 

Deceitful, vain, and ambitious^ with the power of hid- 
ing her true character behind the mask of religion and 
virtue, she was a dangerous, unscrupalous woman. 

A few days after the funeral I called on her, for the 
purpose of reading to her her husband's will, which had 
been left in my care. She received me with her custom- 
ary smile, and invited me to be seated with a polite- 
ness that, to one knowing her as I did, was portentous 
of a coming storm. I at once proceeded with my busi- 
ness, and tearing open the large sealed envelope which 
Jacob had informed me contained his will, I drew forth 
two papers. Opening the larger one, I read aloud the 
contents. It bequeathed everything to Agnes except a 
thousand dollars, which was the amount left to the 
mdo w in addition to her dower. I read slowly on, expect- 
ing every moment to be interrupted by a fierce burst 
of anger from Mrs. Griffin ; but I was not. She sat per- 
fectly still -until I had finished and was about to take 
up the second paper. Then she sprang to her feet, and 
6^^ 



106 The Addison R 

shaking at me her clenched hand, fairly screamed out : 
" you villain ! you hoary-headed old scoundrel ! You 
persuaded him to do it, I know you did ! You always 
hated me ! .Curse him, and curse you ! I'll be avenged of 
you both, see if I don't! " With a parting scowl she 
swept out of the room, leading her daughter by the hand. 
There have been few occasions in my life when all power 
of thought deserted me. This was one. When Bill 
Sands, a young lawyer whom I v/as skinning before the 
jury with a keen relish, unable longer to stand my sar- 
casm, struck me fall in the head v/ith a large-sized ink- 
stand, was another ; but the widow's words were worse 
than the blow. I a scoundrel and a villain ! I should 
have to see about that. Have vengeance, would she ? 
Well, I would see about that too. That was a game at 
which two could play — a game of which, if I had only 
known it, I then held in my hand the winning card 

Thoughtless in my indignation, I folded up the docu- 
ments and left the house without reading the second 
paper. I carried them to my office, replaced them in my 
drawer, and went home, still brooding over the widow's 
angry v/ords. 

After a short time my wrath partially wore away, 
and I began to think about the paper enclosed with the 
will, and to wonder what it contained. My curiosity 
finally grew so strong that, although it was long past 
office hours, I determined to go back and read it. 

On entering the office I found there Jack Lawson, a 
young man who was reading lavr with me, and whom ,1 
was to take into partnership in a short time. He looked 
up v/ith some surprise when I entered, as though won- 
dering at my appearing at so unusual an hour, and then 
w^ent on with his reading. 



• The Addison Reunion Papers. 107 

I went to the drawer, unlocked it, and to my surprise 
could find bat one paper — the will. What could I have 
done with the other ? I felfc sure I had placed them away 
together, and yet it was not there. 

I looked for it in every probable and improbable place, 
but it could not be found. 

" Jack," said I, " have you opened this drawer since 
three o'clock? " 

" I have not," he replied. '* Why, what's up now ? " 

" I have lost a papar," I answered with considerable 
irritation, " and I am sure I placed it in that drawer an 
hour ago. Now, however, it has disappeared, and it is 
very singular, to say the least of it, that you don't 
know something about it." 

*'Do you mean to insinuate, sir," said he, ** that I do 
know anything about it when I have told you that I 
do not?" 

" No, no, don't get angry, Jack ; I am a little worried 
about this thifig, and have spoken too fast. Let it 
drop ; I don't suppose it is of much importance." Say- 
ing which, I hastened off home again. 

It was not a matter, however, to be so easily dropped, 
and my thoughts would revert to it. I could not believe 
that Jack Lawson had told me an untruth. He was a 
young man of twenty -two, an orphan, and when I found 
him, v/ithout friends. I liked him from the first time I 
met him for his bright intelligent face, his frank, hearty 
manner, and his. kind, generous disposition. He was 
the soul of honor, and heartily despised all petty false- 
hoods. 

No, he had told me the truth — he knew nothing at 
all about the matter ; and yet how could that paper 
have been taken from that drawer without his know- 



108 The Ad din on Reunion Papers. 

ledge? Where was it? What were its contents? Ah, 
if I had only known ! But it was not so to be. Fate 
through its means was working out the destiny of two 
human beings. 

After many months of sorrow and trouble and pain, 
it was again to come to light, to produce new disasters, 
shocking inhumanity, remorse and death. 



CHAPTER II. 

ALL ABOUT LOVE. 

'■' And thus forever, throuftliout this wide world, 
Is lore a sorrow proving ; 
There .ire still many sorrowful things in life, 
But the saddest of all is loving." 

Days, weeks, and months slipped away, bearing with 
them into oblivion all the petty cares and troubles re- 
corded in the last chapter. Agnes, now a beautiful 
heiress, had been and still was much sought for by the 
village beaux, but as yet she had apparently given her 
heart to no one. Her mother had acquired such abso- 
lute control over her, and so easily influenced her every 
action, that my services as her guardian were never re- 
quired. Agnes was a good girl — gentle, kind, and 
loving. Possessed of more intelligence, she was yet in 
many ways weaker than the average of her sex. Her 
weakness was not of the mind, but was rather of that 
kind so winning in woman — a weakness that left her 
unable to stand alone and battle with the world, and 
which was continually yearning after gome support ; 
but a wea^kness also that deprived her of that moral 



Th e A d (lis on Reu n ion Pa p c r s. 109 

courage which enables a woman to cling to the one she 
loves though all others have left him, braving the 
opinion of the whole world for his sake, comforting 
him in his adversity, though it might be of sin and 
shame, and. cheering him in the hour of trial — always 
hoping for the best. She depended upon the opinion 
of others even in the most trivial things, and desired 
no. other condition in life than to live under the care of 
some one who v/ould always tell her what to do. If 
she saw one, even though she loved him dearly, begin- 
ning a course that would lead to his ruin, instead of 
speaking a loving word to check him, she would be the 
first to leave hina, simply because others did. Being 
of this disposition, it was no v/onder that a woman like 
her mother soon acquired such control over her — even 
over her very soul. So complete was this influence 
that 'the girl would at her mother's wish have sacrificed 
every hope most dear to her heart without reasoning 
and without hesitation. As Jack Lawson said, if the 
old woman but took a pinch of snufi" you might in a 
short time expect to hear the daughter sneeze. 

In a few days more she would be twenty-one, and I 
would then be required to give up all authority over 
her and her money. On that day, too, Jack Lawson 
and I were to enter into our proposed partnership. 
Everything was in readiness for both events, and I had 
Gonynenced to feel that at last some of the burdens of 
life were about to be lifted from my shoulders. 

One evening, after business hours, as I was leaving 
the office, Jack requested me to remain with him for a 
few moments, as he had something very important to 
himself to tell me. 

Laying aside my hat and cane, I told him to pro- 
ceed. 



110 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

'' Mr. Rogers," said he, "you have always been very 
kind to me, very kind ; so kind indeed that I feel I can 
never repay you." 

" Oh, bother all that, Jack ; is that all you've got to 
say r 

'• Hear ine through, sir," he replied ; " I won't detain 
you very long. As I said before, I can never repay 
you, and yet I am about to ask you to do me a still 
greater favor than any I have ever before asked." 

•** I'll do anything in the world for you, Jack ; any- 
thing. You know'that." 

''Wait till you hear all about it," he continued, 
'•and then promise. I'm in love with your ward. I 
have loved her for years, and she loves me." 

"Phew!" whistled I. "Jack, how's your appe- 
tite?" 

" It's all right," said he; " why do you ask that? " 

"Digestion good, eh?" 

" Yes, certainly." 

" No pain about the head, or lungs, or anywhere, my 
dear fellow? " 

" No. Don't make fun of me ; I'm not in the humor 
for it." 

" My dear boy, I was never more in earnest in my 
life. You're sick, and don't know it. I must really 
have the doctor see you." 

" I tell you I am not," said he. " I'm as well ^a I 
ever was ; but I am ia love with Agnes Griffin." 

What a remarkable thing is this that we all call love ! 
Look at that great, rough, bearded man, all stained 
with powder and blood, fighting like a very devil in a 
foreign land, and against strangers ! See him again as 
he stands by a hearth by him made desolate, nursing a 



The Addison Reunion Papers. Ill 

little child by him made an orphan ! What has made 
that rough hand, but a moment ago^bathed in blood, 
now so soft and gentlej What has brought that tear 
to his eye, and changed his look from that of a devil 
to that of a god? Love has done it; he is thinking 
of another child, his own, and ofganother home far 
away. 

This is a love that I could understand ; ^but the love 
of a young man for a young woman, springing up 
without apparent cause, unexplainable even by the 
parties, themselves, feedingv^ipon nothing ,^but itself, 
desiring nothing beyond itself, unreasonable and un- 
controllable — [this I cannot comprehend. 

To be continually falling^ln love is a peculiarity of 
young people that cannot be accounted for. Lock a 
young fellow up in a room for an hour with a good- 
looking young lady, no matter'if hehas never before 
seen her, and ninety-nine times in a hundred when 
he comes out he'll^say, "Oh,' but" I do love that girl, 
she's an angel, she is ! " 

I consider it a disease, only curable by time and ab- 
sence, or matrimony. Thus'I looked upon Jack's love ; 
and as it was impossible for me to allow him.^to leave 
me, I 'dropped upon the last remedy, and asked him 
why, if he loved Agnes, he did not go and marry her. 

"Ah," said he, "now you are coming to the point. 
I have asked her to marry me, and she consented pro- 
vided her mother would agree to it. J I immediately 
asked the old lady, and was told to go to — ' where the 
woodbine twineth.' " 

" Jack,'' said I, " v/here's the good of it all? Can't 
you let her go? Thereareplenty of other girls. Where's 
the use of having any trouble about this one ?" 



1 1 2 Til c A d d i s n A' e u n i o u Pap crs, 

" No," he replied, " I oau'b let her g). There may 
be plenty of others, bat there can never be but this 
one girl for me." 

" Then you are determined to marry this one or 
none, are you ? " 
. •' That's just it," he answered ; " this one or none." 

" Now you are sensible, my boy," said I. " You can't 
marry this one, it seems, so just drop the whole foolish 
business and don't marry at all. Take my word for it, 
ifis the best way " 

'•No," he replied, "I sha'n't give up yet. Agnes 
will soon be her own mistress, responsible to no one, 
and of an age when all good people will justify her in 
deciding this matter for herself. Now, sir, what I wish 
you to do is to see her, and aid me, if you can, in break- 
ing the power her mother wields over her. Will you. 
doit?" 

I took time to consider, and reflected over the whole 
matter. All these days and weeks and months, Mrs. 
Griffin had been at work upon the weak, loving disposi- 
tion of her child, moulding it to her will and shaping it 
for her own selfish purpos'es. I could clearly see the 
reason of her opposition to Jack. She would have been 
opposed to any man. By losing control of her daughter's 
person she also lost control of her purse. No — Agnes 
should never marry. I knew Mrs. Griffin too well to 
suppose that she was acting conscientiously for the good 
of her child ; her love was all a mockery and a pretence. 
She loved only power and display ; and Agnes and her 
money gave her both. 

I finally gave Jack the benefit of my thoughts; and 
frankly told him that I feared I could not aid him. At 
this he looked so sad and troubled that my heart gave 
way, and I promised to do as he wished. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 113 

In accordance with this promise, I called the next 
day at Mrs. Griffin's house to see Agnes. As I stood 
in the hall, waiting for the servant to make known* the 
object of my visit, I heard the old lady exclaim : 

" Oh dear me, it's that old vagabond of a lawyer 
again ! Tell him to come in." 

I walked into the room, bowing and smiling, and 
washing my hands in invisible soap, doing my best to 
look pleased at seeing the widow. 

She, however, made not the slightest effort to appear 
pleased at seing me. Quite to the contrary. 

' ' Well, what do you want here again ? " said she. "■ I 
suppose you are aware you are not wanted here, are 
jou not? " 

" Quite aware of it, ma'am," I replied, " and I'm sure 
you are not wanted here by me." 

" I'm at home, sir," said she ; " and as you are no 
gentleman, I wish you to leave. Can't I make you 
con scions of an insult, sir ? " 

" Not a bit of use in trying, ma'am," I replied, still 
washing my hands an'd smiling: '* not a bit of use in 
it. You might as well whistle jigs to a milestone, or 
sing psalms to a dead nigger. I called to see my ward. 
Will you leave the room for a few moments? " 

She complied in a passion, banging the door as she 
went out. Banging something is a way of exhibiting 
wrath that is peculiarly feminine. Make a woman 
angry and she bangs the door ; if no door is convenient, 
she bangs the dishes to pieces ; if there are no dishes, 
• ten to one she bangs you over the head with a broom- 
stick. 

As soon as Agnes and I were alone, I cautiously 
approached the subject uppermost in my mind. 



114 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

■ " Agnes," said I, " I have had a long talk with 
Jack." 

In an instant she knew what was coming. 

"And," I continued, "he has told me everything." 

At this all her woman's pride was at once aroused. 

** How dare he ! " she cried. 

"Don't be angry with him, Agnes," I replied. " Ee- 
member I'm your guardian, and had a right to know all 
about it. Jack asked me to come here to urge his claims ; 
and allow me to say that he is in every way worthy of 
you." 

" Oh don't, please don't ! " she exclaimed, beginning to 
cry. " You don't know all." 

'* Yes I do, " said I ; "I know that your mother is op- 
posed to him. But you are of an age now when you should 
judge and act for yourself in such a matter. It is your 
future happiness alone that is concerned in this affair. 
It is you that will have to live for years with your hus- 
band, not your mother. " 

" Oh I know," she cried; "but I can't disobey her, 
though I love Jack, indeed I do, better than he will 
ever know." 

" Then if you love him, why not marry him ? It would 
be all very well for your mother to decide this matter for 
you if she could live with you and love you always, but 
she cannot. What right has she to interfere in a matter 
which will affect your life for happiness or misery long 
after she is in her grave ? You may be so rich in love now 
that you can afford to throw away a true, loving heart ; 
but how will it be with ypu when your mother and I are 
dead, and you stand alone in this cold, cruel world ? " 

This produced an effect, but she made no reply. She 
was weeping bitterly ; but I felt that I was doing right, 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 115 

and continued. I used every argument I could think of, 
but all in vain. She only said that she could not dis- 
obey her mother. With her consent she would marry 
Jack — oh, so gladly ! She was so under her mother's 
influence that no argument could avail to change her 
determination ; seeing which, I arose to depart. As I 
did so, I glanced out of the window and saw Jack across 
the way, evidently waiting for me. I signed to him to 
come over. Hedidso, and at once entered the room. As 
soon as Agnes saw him she ran towards him with a little, 
glad, loving cry, and threw herself on his breast. 

" Oh, Jack, you will believe me, won't you? I love 
you, Jack ; indeed, indeed I do ! " 

"Yes," said he, kissing her, " after a sort of fashion 
I believe you do. But what a strange love it is ! " 

''Can't you have patience. Jack, and wait a while? 
Things may change for the better after v;hile." 

" Have patience ! " he cried ; " haven't I had 
patience ? Haven't I had patience for two long years ? 
Only seeing you for a moment for weeks, while other 
men could be with you for hours ! Haven't I seen how 
you smiled upon them and seemed happy with them, 
yet in apparent misery when v/ith me ? Hovr can you 
say you love me and ask me to be patient? " 

I left them at this ; arid as I went out of the room 
she was clinging to him, still bathed in tears, and 
crying out pitifully, "Oh, don't doubt me, dear Jack, 
don't doubt me ! I love you, indeed I do." 

The next morning Jack came to me and told me that 
he intended going away. The old associations were too 
much for him, he could not bear them. 

I could see the result of his interview in his face-. 
He looked older by many years, and the sad, wistful 
look in his eyes quite unmanned me. 



110 The Addison Reunio-n Papers. 

"Never mind her, Jack," said I; " she is unworthy 
of you." 

" No she is not," he replied ; " don't talk that way. 
Good-bye now. Maybe you will never see me in this 
world again. Promise me before I go that you will 
look after her when I am gone, and protect her. 
Kemember that I bear away with me no feeling of ^ 
anger, but of devoted love for her; and any kindness 
you show to her will be doubly shown to me." 

I readily gave the required promise ; a grasp of the 
hand and he wa's gone. "What strange new joys and 
troubles he had brought into my life ! If we had never 
met, how different our lives had been! — but it was 
so to be. In our course through life we meet the people 
v/ho are coming to meet us from many strange places 
and by many strange roads ; and what is appointed for 
them to do to us, and what is appointed for us to do to 
them, must all be done. Jack had gone — passed out 
of our lives like the fading of a shadow from the floor. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE PAPER IS FOUND. 

•' Can I have sailed for seven years, far out in the open world ; 
Have tacked and drifted here and there, by eddying currents 

whirled ; 
Haveg:ained and lost, and found again; and now, for a respite, 

come 
Once more to the happy scenes of old, and the haven I voyaged 

from?" 

. I NOW come to the dark part of my story. Before en- 
tering upon it, however, let me ask — was Jack Lawson 



Til e A d diso n R e u nion Pa per s. 117 

right in what he did? Without the knowledge of events 
which rapidly followed, can any one answer he was not ? 
To all who judge his actions by what follows, this story 
is addressed, with the plea that they will " Give the 
Devil his Due." 

Again the days and weeks and' months sped away, 
bringing no new incidents into my now quiet life. I 
never received but one letter from Jack ; it informed 
me that he was in the far West, working hard to acquire 
fortune and to kill the sorrow that filled his breast. He 
refused to give me his address, saying that his heart was 
yet too sore to bear any news from home. I saw but 
little of Agnes, and that little was sufficient to give me 
pain. You now never heard her once merry laugh nor 
saw her happy smile. She had grown quite an old 
woman, and I knew that her love for Jack was the cause 
of it. She had become more gentle and kind, and there 
was a longing, wistful look in her large gray eyes that 
was very aad and touching. 

One evening, whilst assorting some old papers that 
had been lying undisturbed in my desk for a long time, 
I came upon one, the handwriting of which seemed 
strangely familiar. I looked at it in speechless amaze- 
ment. What a strange dizziness came over me ! What 
an icy grasp there was about my heart \ What an aw^ful 
horror came upon my soul ! Looking at it, what caused 
that feeling of impending evil to come into my heart ? 
" Coming events cast their shadows before." I held in 
my hand the lost paper. In an instant I had read it. 
It was a codicil to his former will by which Jacob Griffin 
bequeathed all his property to his wife, and after her 
death to his daughter. Mrs. Griffin was the rightful 
heiress of all his large estate, and not Agnes. What 



lis The Add i s o n R e u nio n Pa pcrs. 

should I do ? Plainly there was but one course. How- 
ever painful it might be to me or to others, whatever 
the consequences to Agnes, Mrs. Griffin must have her 
rights. 

The next morning I wended my way, slowly and sadly 
enough, towards the Griffin mansion. I walked unan- 
nounced into the parlor, and found there the old lady 
and Agnes. My reception was in no way different from 
the previous one. 

I walked up to Mrs. Griffin and handed her the paper. 

" Madam," said I, " there has been a terrible mistake. 
On a previous occasion I read to you what I supposed to 
be your husband's will. It was not ; that paper bears a 
later date." 

I then told her the v/hole story in as few words as 
possible. 

She hastily tore it open and read its contents. Great 
God, what an awfal light came into her eyes ! — a 
hideous, cruel light. 

" So it has come at last," she cried ; "I can now have 
my revenge I Oh, how sweet, how sweet it is ! What a 
nice plan you three had made — you and that girl and 
her lover ! Oh, my darling daughter, how I have had to 
fawn around you and love you ! Love you ! Ha ! ha ! 
You have lived in idleness on my money long enough. 
You shall work now ! This day you leave my house, you 
false, deceiving young schemer ! " 

The woman was not mad. It was the devil that I all 
along knew was in her now showing himself. She could 
have her revenge on both her husband and me by her 
treatment of Agnes. Such conduct was not unnatural ; 
beasts often devour their own young. 

Poor Agnes, pale and worn from her loog-continued 



The Addison Reunioii Papers. 110 

suffering and heartache, fainted away at her mother's 
^7ords ; and that mother, without noticing her, swept 
from the room. This time she did not bang the door. 

I raised Agnes partially from the floor and gently 
fanned her. At last the sad, sweet eyes opened, and she 
whispered, "Jack ! Oh, where is Jack ? He is the only 
one that loves me, and I forsook him in his hour of trial ; 
but he'll not forsake me in mine. Oh, where is he? Dear, 
noble Jack ! " 

I took her gently in my arms and bore her from the 
house. 

I placed her in my carriage and drove rapidly to my 
own bachelor home. Once there, I called in my next» 
door neighbor, a kind, motherly woman, and briefly 
stating the case to her, left Agnes in her care. 

I was now in a quandary. What should be done. 
Plainly, on Mrs. Grundy's account, if no other, she could 
not live alone with me. However, I could wait a day 
or two and then consult with her. In about an hour 
Agnes sent for me. I went to her and found her in bed, 
looking, oh, so pale and deathlike ! yet the old sweet, 
patient smile was on her face. She held out her thin 
white hand and thanked me for my kindness to her. 
My heart had been so seared by contact with the false 
and hollow world that I had forgotten I had one ; but 
now there was a pain in my breast that brought tears to 
my eyes. No wonder Jack loved her ! Where was he ? 
Oh, if he were only here now ! She read my thoughts 
and said : 

" Never mind now, dear friend; I feel that he will 
come back some day. H I only could live to see him 
and ask his forgiveness, I could die happy." 

After a little while I told her my difficulty in regard 
to her. 



1 20 Til e A d d is on R 'e u nio n Pa pers. 

** You are right," she said, " I cannot stay here. Not 
that I care now what the world would say — caring for 
that has brought me here, and made me cruel to dear 
Jack ; but I must not be a burden to you. I will stay 
here for a day or two, and then rent a room and teach 
music. I could not think of going back home." She 
epok-e gently of her mother then and ever afterwards. 

In a few days all the necessary arrangements were 
made, and I soon saw her made comfortable in her new 
home, near mine, with a few scholars to teach, and 
earning enough to support her; but no matter for 
that, she should never want while old Robert Rogers 
was alive. Every day she came to see me, and we used 
to sit for hours, in the quiet summer evenings, talking 
of Jack. Once, after being silent for a long time, she 
turned to me and asked : 

" Do you believe that people know each other in 
heaven? " 

" Yes," I answered, " I am sure of it." 

" Oh, I'm so glad ! " she said. '* I shall see him then." 

Weeks, months and years sped on, bringing no 
change in our lives, until at last we heard that Mrs. 
Griffin had married and had gone away. Agnes shed 
a few tears when she heard of it, at her mother's cru- 
elty, but that was all. Things went on aft^wards the 
same as before. Where was Jack all this time 1 We 
could never discover ; no word had ever been received 
from him since that one short letter to me. Oh, if he 
could only know ! 

How strangely, to our shortsightedness, do the affairs 
of this world seem to be ordered ! 

Here were two hearts suffering and yearning for 
each other, yet kept far apart by ignorance and misun- 



The Addison Reunion Paj^ers. 121 

d^rstanding; he deeming her heartless and false, she 
loving him with her whole soul ; both dying for love of 
€ach other. 

One dark, cold night in December I heard a carriage 
come up to my house, and directly afterwards a great 
knocking at the door. I hastily arose, and going out, 
met three men, two of them supporting the third, who 
was evidently an invalid, and was w^ell wrapped up in 
shawls and blankets. 

"How are you, partner?" said the invalid as soon 
as he saw me. "Don't you know me, old fellow?" 

Know him ? yes, I knew the voice in a moment ; but 
the face — good God ! could it be that this was Jack 
Lawson ? 

It was he, but how changed ! He was nothing but a 
skeleton, and his great black eyes glistened and blazed 
with the fever that was upon him. 

"Don't stand looking all night, old fellow," said he, 
*' but shake hands and then put me to bed. I've come 
back to the old place to die." 

We soon had him in bed and as comfortable as pos- 
sible ; but he was out of his mind most of the time, and 
kept raving about strange places and strange people. 

In the morning he was quieter, and as soon as he 
saw me he asked about. Agnes. I refused to tell him 
anything until he had told me all about himself. He 
did so in a few words. 

He had gone to an out-of-the-v/ay part of Kansas, 
bought a farm, worked hard, made money, got sick of 
a malignant fever prevalent in that country, and here 
he was. 

When he was through I told him all about Agnes, 
and it was only by promising that he should soon see 
7 



122 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

lier that I prevented 'him from getting out of bed and 
going to her. 

He slept but little that night, and in the morning 
I sent for Agnes. When she came, Jack was delirious ; 
but she would not wait, and rushing to his side, in a 
moment she had his head in her arms, crying and 
smiling and kissing him. "When the doctor told us 
that he must die, I thought she would have died too. 

Hour after hour she sat by his side, watching him 
and listening to his delirious words. 

Towards evening he opened his eyes and recognised 
her. He was so weak now that he could hardly talk, 
but drawing her close to him he whispered : 

** God bless you, darling ! " 

Presently he spoke again. 

" Agnes, dear," he said, " the old life is passing away ; 
shall we be together in the new ? 

" Yes, dear Jack, always." 

" And you will be mine forever ? " 

*' Yes, oh yes ! " 

The light of his life flickered a moment in its socket, 
flared up again, and then went out forever. 

For a few more months Agnes stayed with us ; growing 
sadder and weaker every hour. Each day she would 
walk to the cemetery and spend hours there. One 
evening she did not come home. We made no lengthy 
search — all knew where to find her. When we came 
to Jack's grave we found her lying with her head resting 
upon it. 

" Is she dead ? " said one. 

"Yes, quite dead." 

I have seen her smile sv/eetly many times, but the 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 123 

smile on her face when we found her was the hap- 
piest I ever saw. 

" We shall meet at one gate 
When all's over. The ways they are many and wide, 
And seldom are two ways the same. Side by side, 
May we stand at the same little door when all's done ! 
The ways they are many, the end it is one." 



124 T h e A dd is on Reunio n Pap ers. 



OUR CHILDHOOD HOME. 

The home of our childhood, with all its sweet treasures, 

My " fond recollection " presents it to view ; 
'And I smile as I think of its innocent pleasures, 

Which memory strives not in vain to renew. 
The house was my pride, and the spring which was 
near it, 

And the grove and the fields which around it did 
lay, 
And the grave-yard not far — oh, how I did fear it 

When my late evening duties lead me that way ! 

And I think of the time when the day's work was 
done, 

How on the front porch we all met together, 
'Neath the jasmine to rest, while the lingering sun 

Would kiss the sweet flowers which grew on the 
heather ; 
And I love to remember the long winter nights. 

With books or for plays round the table we'd sit ; _ 
For the time sweetly passed in the sweetest delights, 

As we read or gossiped with sharp rustic wit. 

Then at times we would have an occasional raid 

From friends in the city, whom gladly we'd greet ; 
Our loved cousins would come in bright beauty 
arrayed, 
With their citified airs so charmingly sweet. 
What gay times we'd have, and what driving and 
riding, 
Pic-nicking and flirting : I tell you 'twas fun ! 



The Addison Reunion Pai^ers. 125 

We could scarce have a thought how swift time was 
flying, 
E'er vacation v/as passed and summer was done. 

There was father, and mother, and four of us boys, 

And two darling sisters to make up our home ; 
Till Louie came, then Josie, to share in our joys, 

And fill up the place of the one who did roam. 
So my thoughts will run on till a sadder time nears, 

The first real shadow -fell on my heart, 
And the sunshine of childhood grows dim with my 
tears, 

When called on by death with beloved ones to part. 

There was dear little Josie, the first called away, 

The youngest on earth but the oldest in heaven ; 
Like a beautiful flower he faded away, 

His sweet little form to the angels was given. 
Soon afterwards came the saddest sorrow of all ; 

The gloom of that shadow still rests on my heart, 
And the tears of affection unceasingly fall, 

With a dearly loved mother called on to part. 

Thus the joys of my childhood home faded away ; 

For death broke the charm of the circle so dear ; 
And all that is left is the memory to-day 

Which began with a smile but ends with a tear. 
So is it with all of earth's fairest enjoyments : 

The dearest and brightest the soonest decay ; 
Home treasures, earth's pleasures, and all our employ- 
ments, 

With our present existence will soon pass away. 

B. 



126 The Addison Reunion Papers: 



THE GOLDEN Vv^EDDING. 

Childeen's Gbeeting. 

We come, we come with joyous hearts, 
To hail you, happy parents dear ! 
To enjoy the bliss your smile imparts, 
And praise the Lord who still doth spare 
Your lives and ours, to celebrate 
Your fiftieth year in married state. 

Your Golden Wedding this we call, 
And fain would make it so indeed, 
By now presenting, each and all, 
What in your view will far exceed 
The richest of Australia's store. 
Our filial love, sincere and pure. 

Had we the choicest gifts to bring 
That art could make or gold could buy. 
To render as an offering, 
They would not now the place supply 
In your esteem, of that which we 
Do tender you most fervently. 

We feel that under God to you 
We owe the blessings we enjoy, 
And that it is but justly due 
That we should every power employ 
T'express our heartfelt gratitude 
To parents who have been so good. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. ]27 

Father and motlier ! faithful, kind, 
Affectionate, and ever true ! 
At loss we are the words to find 
To speak the love we feel for you ; 
But let this poor attempt suggest : 
Your own for us will tell the rest. 

We join you in this blessed hour 
In praises unto God on high, 
Who by His wisdom, grace and power 
Hath led you on. May He supply 
All needed strength for years to come ; 
And grant us all at last a home, 
Where, in our Saviour's arms secure, 
We'll dwell in bliss forevermore. 

J. T. W. 



1 28 Th e Addison Reunio n Pape r , 



A FANCY SKETCH. 

Methii^'KS this sweet night may the angels invite, 
'Tis so lovely and pure, so cloudless and bright ; 
And in fancy I see them clothed all in white, 
Swift winging their way from the mansions of light, 
And kissing the "moon in the sweet summer air : 
They eclipse all the stars, but those the most fair ; 
Then sweeping the air with their soft dowmy wings, 
They tune their sweet harps, till the bright golden 

strings 
Thrill with a melody so heavenly sweet 
That fair zephyrs come forth the music to greet ; 
And the breeze as it comes from the far-off hills 
Breathes into the heart of night, till it thrills 
With a song so sv/eet that it stirs the sad heart 
With music which heaven itself doth impart. 

So all the night long, 

A beautiful song 
Floats from the golden strings ; 

And the soft winds bear, 

Through the balmy air 
The songs that the angel sings. 

While the world's asleep 

My vigils I keep, 
Sweet angels, with sleepless eyes, 

To list to your songs, 

Which to heaven belong,' 
And bid me from earth to arise ; 

Till a heavenly calm, 

Like a sacred psalm, 



Tlie Addison Reunion Fapei's. 129 

Descends from the cloudless skies, 

And takes the unrest 

From my heaving breast 
As the dream of my fancy dies. 

B. 



7* 



1 30 Til c A d d ISO n K c u n io n Fap e r . 



ACROSTICS. 

Grace and peace, my lady friend, 
Ever on thy steps attend ; 
Righteousness thy life adorn ; 
Truth as an ornament be worn ; 
Religion's pleasant paths pursue, 
Up to the heaven thou hast in view ; 
Delight in God and persevere : 
. Everlasting life is there. J. T. W. 

ANOTHER. 

Faith in the precious Saviour's name, 

And holy works to prove the same, 

Ne'*er fail to bring sweet comfort down, 

Ne'er fail with peace our days to crown : 

Immense the good we thus secure, 

Eternal life we thus ensure. J. T. W. 



ANOTHER. 

Make the Saviour thy delight, 
Always live as in His sight; 
Run with joy from day to day 
In His peaceful, pleasant way, 
And thou shalt be blest for aye. 

J. T. W. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 131 



THE ANOINTED DOVE. 

By Thos. E. Van Bebber. 

'* The attractive power of sweet o'mtments, to which Solomon 
here alludes, i3 notably declared in that which Basil relates of the 
manner of catching doves ; which was by breeding one up tame, 
and then anointing her wings, they let her fly away, and the sweet 
odor of the ointment drew abundance of pigeons after her, which 
she brought to the cot of her owner." — Patrick's Commentary on 
ike Song of Solomon. 

■ 'Midst rocks and caverns, all alone, 

A white-winged dove was heard to moan ; 
All day, all night, forlorn she sate. 
Without a friend, without a mate. 

One morn a holy man passed by, 

With snowy beard and prayerful eye ; 

A censer on his arm he swings, 

With which he fumes the sad bird's wings. 

Charmed by the force of odors bland, 
The lone one perches on his hand ; 

And then, with liquids heavenly sweet, 
He bathes her eyes, her plumes, her feet. 

All dripping thus with holy dew, 
As up morn's roseate clouds she flew, 

Of God's own garden the perfume 

Streamed on her track from every plume. 

For leagues on leagues those sweets she fanned 
O'er winding stream and desert sand. 



132 Til e Add in on lieu n io n Pap ers. 

And crowded caravans, 'tis said, 

With all the camels, knelt and prayed. 

" Is Eden floating down, indeed ? " 

The Arab cried, and reined his steed : 

" Or hover o'er yon groves of palm 

Sweet angels, veiled in clouds of balm ? " 

Meanwhile, amidst those caverns rude, 
All day the holy hermit stood. 

Oft gazing eastward in the air 
As if wing'd visitors were there. 

Clambering at eve a lofty rock, 
He saw a rainbow-tinted flock 

Of doves fly towards the sinking sun ; 
All circling round th' Anointed One. 

*' Innocence ! " the old man cried, 
" Thou comest back, a spotless bride : 
Where'er thy heaven-sweet wings are found, 
The sister virtues flock around." 



The Addison Reunion Papers, 133 



SHELLEY. 

Percy Bysske Shelley, the utterance of whose 
very name breathes the spirit of the beautiful in 
poetry, was born at Field Place, Sussex, England, on 
the fourth day of August ^792. His family was opu- 
lent and distinguished ; his father being Sir Timothy 
Shelley, a wealthy English baronet. 

In his earliest years Shelley manifested a strange 
and decided morbid sensibility, with an inclination 
afterwards to skepticism. The atheism with which he 
has been charged was perhaps not so much the fault of 
himself as of the system that was practised to dispel the 
doubts of an inquiring and intelligent mind. 

At an early age Shelley was sent to Eton, v/here 
cruelty of the most tyrannical character was visited 
upon those who refused to "fag," and Shelley was one 
of those unfortunates who had spirit enough to re- 
sist. From Eton he passed to Oxford, where still no 
effort was made to administer to a mind full of gene- 
rosity and kindness. It was not long before he began 
to regard himself as a victim of social persecution. 

At Oxford he published a tract in defence of atheism. 
He was then seventeen years of age. For this he 
was expelled from the University, and shortly after 
deserted by his family and friends. His barque, already 
frail, seemed soon likely to become a prey to the wind 
and waves. With what beautiful sadness has he in 
The Revolt of Islam expressed his condition : 

" clasped my hand and looked around, 

And none was near to mock my streaming eyes, 
Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground." 



134 The Addison. Reunion Papers. 

So wedded was lie to the principles which he con- 
ceived to be right that he promptly sacrificed his for- 
tune and his home rather than recant. 

As early as his fifteenth year he had written 
two short romances, both, it is said, of decided merit. 
A number of his poems were about this time collected 
in a small volume entitled Margaret Nicholsons Re- 
mains. At the inmature age of eighteen appeared 
Quecji Mah. Although this in some respects the most 
exquisite of his productions, has apparently for its 
purpose the exposition of his mistaken religious views, 
it was not intended for public notice ; and this the 
young author particularly stated. We have a right 
therefore to believe that because of this special 
request of Shelley's, his purpose was rather to ascer- 
tain the critical opinions of his meagre coterie of friends 
as to the literary merit of the poem than to announce 
a creed that he knew was unpopular. 

In August 1811, and a short time after the appear- 
ance of Queen Mah, he contracted and consummated 
an unfortunate alliance with a young woman. Miss 
Harriet Westbrook. 

About this period was composed Alastor: or the 
Spirit of Solitude. In this grand and novel product, 
which reflected the despondent condition of Shelley's 
mind produced by his uncongenial intellectual associa- 
tion, are contained perhaps the very finest descrip- 
tions of woodland scenery in the English language. 

Shelley now made a tour of the Continent, having 
previously, however, led a sort of nomadic life among 
the hills of Wales and Scotland. It 'was while living 
in this half Ishmaelitic manner that the use of opium to 
relieve a spasmodic disease grew into a habit from 
which he was never able to free himself 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 135 

The absence of " intellectual fiympathj " between 
Shelley and his wife induced a separation, which hap- 
pened in 1813 ; the wife returning to her parental 
roof, taking with her the offspring of their marriage. 
Of these Shelley was afterwards deprived by a decree 
of the courts, the plea being the atheism of the father. 
The unhappy wife three years afterwards ended her 
days by suicide. 

Shelley's tour of the Continent was made in com- 
pany with the daughter of the celebrated author of 
Caleb Williams. This lady, Mary WoUostonecraft 
Godwin, inherited to a large degree the splendid abil- 
ities of her illustrious father. She was afterwards the 
author of Frankenstein, a romance suggested by 
Lord Byron during the residence of Shelley and his 
v/ife on the banks of the Lake of Geneva. They re- 
turned from their pilgrimage in the autumn of 1814. 
By the death of Sir Bysshe Shelley, the father of Sir 
Timothy, our poet became (much to his need) the pos- 
sessor of an annual allowance of £1000, Sir Timothy 
refusing to recognise his son because of his marriage 
with Miss Westbrook and heterodox religious opinions. 

About this time he married the companion of his con- 
tinental travels. The union proved one of " almost 
ideal felicity and happiness." He now retired to a 
village in Buckinghamshire, where was composed The 
Revolt of Isla7n. In this production Shelley under- 
takes to show the success of his philosophical creed 
over the religious systems as accepted by mankind, and 
v/as intended besides, as he admits, as an experiment 
on the public niind. The poem is narrative in its 
style, and consists of a succession of pictures portray- 
ing in the most vivid manner the aspirations of the 



136 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

soul to human excellence and refinement. The stanza 
is Spencerian, and abounds in the most beautiful and 
rapturous descriptions. 

His health now grew extremely bad, and he deter- 
mined to seek repose under the invigorating sun of clas- 
sic Italy. Early in the spring of 1818, with his wife 
and two children, William and Clara, he left England, 
as it proved forever. He went at once to Eome, 
and while here wrote Prometheus Unbound, com- 
posed, as he has beautifully told us, " upon the moun- 
tainous ruins of Caracalla, among the flowery glades 
and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees." Rossetti 
regards this as the very grandest of Shelley's composi- 
tions. It contains some passages which for grandeur 
of imagination he has never equalled. There is be- 
sides a richness of coloring that almost approaches the 
sister art of painting, as in Pantheas' reply to Prome- 
theus : 

" but the eastern star looks white, 

And Asia waits in that far India vale, 
The scene of her sad exile ; rugged once 
And desolate and frozen, like this ravine ; 
But now invested with fair flowers and herbs, 
And haunted by sweet airs and sounds, which flow 
Among the woods and waters, from the ether 
Of her transforming presence, which would fade 
If it were mingled not with thine." 

Immediately after the appearance of Prometheus, 
came Julian and Maddolo. Then followed The Cenci^ 
a tragedy founded on the tradition of Beatrice Oenci, 
a daughter of one of the patrician families during the 
reign of Pope Clement VIII. The story is horrible 
and monstrous in its character ; yet Shelley has, as far 
as it has been possible, relieved it of its real horror, and 
rendered it a tragedy almost as terrible as Lear, 



The Addison Reunion Fax')ers. .137 

After the appearance of The Cenci, JRosalind and 
Helen, The Witch of Atlas, and Adonais followed 
at brief intervals. The latter is a lament on the 
death of Keats, between whom and Shelley a fender 
friendship had ever existed. 

The habits of Shelley it seems were as migratory in 
Italy as they had been in England, for we find him 
during the period of a few months alternating between 
Rome, Florence, Pisa, Naples, and Ravenna. How- 
ever, during the early spring of 1822 he seems dis- 
posed to settle down with his little household in the 
neighborhood of Sant Arenzo, on the coast of Genoa. 
In a letter to a friend, dated June 29th, he says : 
" I still inhabit this divine bay, reading Spanish 
dramas, and sailing, and listening to the most enchant- 
ing music," and in another he expresses his regret 
" that summer must ever pass." His wife, though, had 
no admiration for the shades of Sant Arenzo and its 
beautiful waters, and anxiously sought a return to the 
more busy scenes of Florence and Rome. 

About this period Leigh Hunt, at the solicitation of 
Byron, left England for Italy. The latter had for some 
time in contemplation the publication of a periodical, 
the matter of which was to be furnished by Shelley, 
Hunt, and himself. Hunt reached Leghorn about the 
middle of June, at which place the final arrangements 
were to be made. Shelley, with his companion, Captain 
"Williams, of the English navy, a member too of the 
household at Sant Arenzo, followed shortly after. The 
enterprise failed because of Byron being compelled to 
quit Italy, and because too of an absence of congenial- 
ity between Hunt and himself. The failure of the 
project threw Shelley into despondency. He at once 



138. The Addison Reunion Papers. 

prepared to return to his quiet home by Sant Arenzo's 
bay. On the afternoon of the 8th of July, in company 
with Williams and a sailor boy, Charles Vivian, he set 
sail from Leghorn. In the evening a squall struck the 
vessel ; she capsized, filled and sunk, and Shelley ynth. 
his two companions perished in the waves. The bodies 
were by the efforts of Byron and Trelawney afterwards 
recovered. A copy of Keats was found in Shelley's 
pocket. 

In accordance with the manner of the ancients, and 
in compliance with a half- expressed wish of the poet, 
his remains were placed on a pile and consumed by 
fire. The ashes by Byron's direction were placed in 
an urn and buried near the grave of Keats in the 
Protestant cemetery of Rome, " the final resting-place 
of many an English wanderer." 

Whatever may have been the opinions entertained 
by Shelley when he wrote Queen Mob in regard to 
a future state, it is clear that in his maturer years he 
was not an atheist; holding rather to a sort of pan- 
theism, or an identification of the universe with God, 
than a denial of the existence of a Supreme Being. 
In his'social life he was the embodiment of morality 
and virtue. He was noble, generous and humane, and 
despised vice whenever and wherever he found it. 

Many of Shelley's productions are marked by a 
wild and visionary tone, but his imagery is prominent 
and bold, and surrounded frequently with a radiance 
of almost dazzling beauty. He had a sublime appre- 
ciation of the poetry of the Grecians, which is evi- 
denced throughout all his writings. 

His lyric productions especially are enriched with 
the mythological imagery of that classic race, harmo- 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 139 

nised with a spirit of the most tender and affecting 
loveliness, soft and exquisitely beautiful, "on which the 
soul floats dreamily as on the dewy breath of twilight." 
Among his minor poems, The Cloud will ever 
rank as one of the richest gems in the diadem of poesy. 
In the stanza — 

" The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 

And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack 

When the morning star shines dead; 
As on the jag of a mountain crag 

Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
An eagle alit one moment, may sit 

In the light of his golden wings " — 

the poet attains the very summit of the sublime. As 
Jeffrey in his kinder moments said of Keats's Lamia, "it 
is flushed all over with the rich -lights of fancy, and 
colored and bestrown with the flowers of poetry." 

His Ode to the West Wind, written in the fall of 
1819, during a brief sojourn at Florence, is a poem or 
almost unapproachable grandeur, and may as a single 
production be regarded as embodying the characteris- 
tics of the author's peculiar manner. The Sensitive 
Flant, a poem of the most tender loveliness and 
beauty, betrays the extreme feminineness of Shelley's 
mind, and is of itself a sufficient argument in behalf of 
his unselfishness and generosity. 

By the candid critic, Shelley has ever been regarded 
as one of the most finished poets in the English lan- 
guage. His imagination was supremely poetic, and 
frequently " almost overwhelms us with the gorgeous 
splendor of its fancy." He had a passionate love of 
nature ; no poet has ever produced passages of descrip- 
tion comparable in grandeur to the beautiful pictures 
of scenery to be found in Alastor, and The Eevolt 



140 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

of Islam. In fertility of ideas, in purity of diction, 
and in intensity of feeling, Shelley surpasses even the 
illustrious author of Childe Harold ; and so long as 
poetry shall be admired and genius adored, his produc- 
tions will be preserved as pearls of more worth and 
beauty than ever graced the coronets of kings. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 141 

VISIT TO CAMP. 

BY THOS. e/^VAN BEBBER. 

The following little poem, in order to be understood, requires 
a word or two of explanation. It was composed several years 
ago, but from some cause or other was never sent to the lady 
for whose eye it was intended. The circumstance alluded to in 
the three first stanzas is founded upon a fact which that lady 
related to me whilst on our way to the camp. It is this : a 
celebrated Methodist preacher (Rev. Thomas H. Stockton), was 
once, while addressing a large camp-meeting, heard to coo like a 
dove. The lady herself heard him, and there can be no doubt of 
its truth. It was certainly one of , the boldest flights of oratory 
on record and far surpasses anything of the kind related of 
Whitfield, or any other celebrated speaker of ancient or modern 
times. 

Where solemn trees o'er many a tent 
With overarcliing boughs were hung, 

And holy anthems up were sent 

To God's high throne from old and young, 

Together to the camp we went; 

And thou didst tell of one whose tongue, 

As if on snow-white wings he flew, 

Was heard like Heaven's own Dove to coo. 

Oh, how Faith trimmed her odorous lamp ! 

How every heart was deeply stirred ! 
For whilst loud neigh and iron tramp 

Outside the sacred ring were heard, 
Went thrilling through the tented camp 

The cooings of that mystic Bird 
Which once by Jordan, good men tell, 
Descended on Immanuel. 



142 The Addison R nunion Papers. 

Sach sounds to Noah's Ark afloat 
Foretold tlie signs of peace and love ; 

And though 'tis true each dulcet, note 
Was mimicry of earthly dove, 

A faint attempt of mortal throat 
To echo back the tones above, 

Yet who could call those cooings vain, 

Or blame such bird- notes as profane? 

But other topics not unmeet 

For Nature's green cathedral pile 

Arose between us, as our feet 

Trod up and down each sylvan aisle ; 

And once, methought, a lady sweet 
From Lima, stood beside me, while 

To shield thy left eye from the sun 

Thy veiling kerchief showed but one. 

Then, after many a winding turn 
"We reached at last a crystal spring, 

Where fays might pinch the hunter Heme, 
Or dance all night in circling ring ; 

Green moss was there, and mystic fern, 
And butterflies with painted wing. 

And wild vine wreathing high in air 

Formed both a canopy and chair. 

Then, pardon, pray, these hasty rhymes, 
And having read them, lay them by ; 

Perhaps some day, in future times. 

If they perchance should meet thine eye. 

Like sound of long-forgotten chimes 
They may possess some melody. 

E'en though no more through woodland camp 

Thy eye shall be my guiding lamp. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 14; 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF DRESS. 

* I HAVE read somewliere : "Show me a lady's dresses 
and I will tell you her character." There is a great 
deal of truth in this idea thus pithily stated. The 
dress of a woman is certainly an index of her taste, 
and an observant person may discover many a little 
trait of disposition by carefully noting wherewithal 
she is clothed. For example, the modest retiring 
nature will naturally -select that style of dress the 
colors and patterns of which are least likely to attract 
attention. She will conform sufficiently to the pre- 
vailing fashion to avoid exciting remark, and her 
bonnet (that all-important item) is almost sure to be 
a dear, quiet-looking, dainty little affair that sets one 
thinking of a wife right away. Now, on the other 
hand, should you by chance obtain a peep into a fair 
one's wardrobe, and catch a glimpse of a Scotch plaid 
skirt and a fierce-looking red jacket with a quantity 
of buttons and braid a la militaire, would you not in- 
stinctively picture to yourself some saucy black-eyed 
sprite, whose delight it would be to waltz into your 
affections and then laugh at you for your credulity ? 
Again, should you handle the long-waisted, severely- 
cut robe of an ancient spinster, you could see in ima- 
gination the angular form it fitted, while the very 
folds of the silk would whisper as they rustled the 
name of the vestal herself, Priscilla for a certainty. 

If this much be so, is it not equally true that 
characters assimilate themselves to the (Tresses we 
wear ; or rather, when we assume a certain dress, is not 
an appropriate state of mind sure to follow ? 



144 



Th e Add i s on Re u n i o n Pa x)ers. 



To illustrate this I must needs relate somethiDg that 
has come under my own immediate observation. Now, 
I have a little friend Vho has lately become the pos- 
sessor of a certain suit made by a fashionable city 
dress-maker. When it was first sent home she could, 
not be induced even to try it on ; she thought it much 
too showy and stylish for such a demure body as her- 
self ; but to her surprise, when the dress was donned 
she found herself blooming out into quite a rapid young 
lady, and affirms that she felt full three shades faster 
than usual. I saw her soon afterwards making calls 
in her new costume, and was Intensely amused to see 
how it had afi'ected even her walk. She tripped along 
on her toes like a regular " girl of the period ; " and as 
for the fashionable jerk, the " toss and wriggle" con- 
sidered so fascinating by our modern belles, she had it 
to perfection. She confessed to me that when she 
found herself joking gaily with her gentlemen friends 
she scarcely recognised her own voice, there was such 
a ring in it; and I am afraid, if opportunity offered, 
she might be induced to try a little mild flirting, for 
nothing can disturb her serene self-complacency or 
make her "see herself as others see her," while she 
is encompassed by those airy flounces and feels that 
coquettish basque clinging closely to her form. She 
has another one, very straight in the back and full in 
the gathers, that acts upon her as a mental extinguisher. 
She has literally no words for anything. She feels that 
her place is in the corner. No soft, yielding rocking- 
chair or luxurious sofa for poor Amy when she has on 
her " drab." She looks as though she Jcnew the expression 
of her face was forbidding an^d was satisfied therewith. 
In short she has on her drab dress, and a drab counte- 



Tlie Addison Reunion Pa2yers. 145 

nance and drab manners follow as an inevitable conse- 
quence. 

The world has acted upon this fact without seeming 
to have analysed it-. Look at that portion of our com- 
munity called by most people " Quakers," but whom we 
who know and love them would rather call by 
their own sweet name of "Friends." Don't you sup- 
pose their peculiar dress helps them to feel and act as 
they do ? Why, the very putting on of such soft neutral 
tints and tender fabrics necessitates a gentle state of 
feeling, and more remotely, a softened manner. The 
affectionate " Thee " and '^ Thou " come naturally to the 
lips, and they feel as they look, at peace with all the 
world. Again, in time of vrar we notice that the regi- 
ments known as " Zouaves," which are clothed in those 
frightful-looking red pants and skull-caps, are the most 
feared ; and the reason is obvious — they look at them- 
selves and feel that they are no longer human beings. 
The mildest young man in our town (and Heaven knows, 
there are some who look mild enough ! ) would, thus 
attired, feel himself a demon, and act accordingly. 
Does any one suppose that an actor could so lose him- 
self in his role and feel for the time all the emotions 
that filled the heart of the person he is representing, 
were it not that he is clothed like him ? Lady Macbeth 
in a pink gingham would be tamely rendered, let the 
actress do her best. Instead of the thrilling tones and 
passionate gestures that v/e look for in personations of 
that terrible character, v/e should have her mincing 
like the veriest milkmaid. It is admitted by wise men 
that " certain conformations of feature give us the im- 
pression of certain peculiarities of mind, " and we read 
that Oampanella, a renowned physiognomist, believed 
8 



146 The Addison Reunion Papers^ 

that no one could possibly assume a certain expression 
of countenance without experiencing temporarily the 
accompanying mental disposition ; and he professed to 
be able to enter into any one's feelings, to discover his 
most secret thoughts and desires, by imitating his dress, 
walk, expression, and any peculiarity for which he 
might be remarkable, and then noting carefully the 
mental change he experienced. This is going rather 
far ; and it would indeed be a dreadful state of affairs 
if a lady could not lay aside her bonnet for a moment 
for fear some few of her " dear five-hundred friends " 
should put it on, and thereby discover that my lady was 
at that very moment heartily wishing them in Jericho. 
But we were speaking just now of the effect produced 
by certain styles of dress. As a case in point, note the 
beautiful robes of the Episcopal and Catholic clergy. 
.Although so familiar, they never fail to impress us. 
Also the judicial gown of the English courts. Imagine 
its effect upon a person unused to the grave formali- 
ties of a trial. Suppose him to be a witness brought 
upon the stand for the purpose, we will say, of being 
examined. Aloft sits the Judge, invested with all the 
solemn panoply of office, clothed in his silken gown, hia 
powdered wig crowning his brow. How terrible he 
seems ! how immovable, how unemotional ! Witness after 
witness comes forward and retires ; the rising attorneys, 
under a mask of civility, stab each other with politest 
words ; the case grows in interest ; but he, the target for 
all eyes, sits calmly on his raised seat, seemingly above 
all such petty strifes, the very incarnation of impartial 
justice. Fudge ! (which by the way rhymes nicely with 
Judge) under all this calmness of exterior his heart is 
swelling* with the thought of his own importance ; and 



The Addison Reunion Pax)ers, 147 

so great is the power of effective dress and appropriate 
surroundings, that for the moment his belief in himself 
is almost as strong as is that of the trembling witness 
80 awed and confounded in that august presence. Alas ! 
the eye of the witness cannot penetrate beneath those 
voluminous folds. How is he to know that the dreaded 
power is only a slender gentleman in a dress-coat? 
You yourself would scarcely know the man under a 
different state of circumstances. Clad in his official 
robes, he awes you by the dignity of his demeanor ; his 
voice takes a fuller tone, his sentences roll grandly 
from his lips, he walks with erect head and regal step ; 
and as he hears his robes rustling around him, he feels 
in truth a very Judge; but come upon him suddenly 
in his night-cap — lo ! a coward. His ruddy face takes 
on an extra shade or two, and his lips grow blue with 
fright as he skips airily into a convenient closet and 
leaves you master of the situation. That man can 
never strike terror to your soul again ; his power is 
• gone. You have seen him stripped of his artificial dig- 
nity, and he realises it so sensibly that he loses confi- 
dence in himself. An advantage thus obtained may be 
kept forever. 

In the case of mourning, we have another instance of 
the effect of dtess. The most^ trifling nature will 
own the spell of the softly- clinging crape, and refuse 
involuntarily to be gay ; and on the other hand, I 
believe no bride ever doubted her happiness so long as 
she wore her point lace and orange blossoms ; but alas ! 
these come off in an hour, and the sober travelling-dress 
sets her to thinking. 

I believe devoutly in the " eternal fitness of things." 
There is in every cultivated mind, and indeed to a less 



148 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

degree in every mind, no matter how crude, a sort of 
notion of appropriateness. Who can go to a funeral, 
for instance, or to pay a visit of condolence, decked out 
in gay colors ? A red neck-ribbon at suck a time would 
be positively insulting; while a sweet costume of gray or 
blue, or a judicious mingling of black lace and lavender, 
would suggest to the afflicted ones a sympathy with 
their trouble that would be really soothing, while a few 
words from the lips of one so attired would have a 
savor of genuineness, no matter hov/ cold the heart of 
the speaker. 

Take a little beggar from the street, the roughest, 
coarsest you can find, and introduce him into your 
drawing-room. Put on him a suit of your finest broad- 
cloth, and you will have him blushing at his rough 
hands. Leave him to himself, take observations 
through the keyhole; I'll wager you'll find him 
making timid attempts at being a gentleman. Look at 
the garb of a nun or a Sister of Charity. How severe its 
simplicity, how free from all adornment ; and do not • 
their serene faces harmonise beautifully with the habit 
beneath which beat their chastened hearts? I have 
been a frequent visitor at the meetings of the " Addison 
Reunion," and although somewhat of a stranger, I own I 
have noticed the garb of not a few of its members, and 
what I have seen goes far to prove what I have been 
saying. Who ever saw the President of that dignified 
yet social body with a flashy neck-tie ? while his learned 
brother the M. D. afi'ects decorous black and sv/allow- 

tail on all state occasions. The languid , I notice, 

has his garments cut in a fashion corresponding with his 

Byronic turn of mind; while the model is well 

known to be somewhat particular about the shade of his 
gloves and the texture of liis handkerchiefs. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 140. 

The ladies display their individualities in various 
ways. Some prefer the juvenile mode of adornment, 
such as long hanging braids tipped with pink or blue. 
This is intended to lead the beholder to believe that 
the little creatures are all innocence and girlishness 
and " kittenish buoyancy." But do not allow your- 
selves to be imposed upon by such flimsy artifices as 
these. Some toss up their tresses alarmingly over a 
high roll ; while some a monstrous bishop wear, and 
boldly vow they do not care. By the way, gentle-men, 
the " don't care " club are rather dangerous ; they will 
not hesitate to box your ears if occasion offers, and 
then be sulky or dissolved in tears until t/ou beg 
pardon. 

A word, girls, now, in your pretty ears : What do 
you say to becoming artists, all of you ; real, genuine 
artists ? I warn you you will have to study pretty 
closely for a few weeks, or perhaps months ; but the 
subject is an agreeable one, and the result compensates 
for any amount of painstaking. You will not have to 
handle the pencil or Vvield the palette-knife and mahl- 
stick ; there will be no troublesome colors to mix upon 
a board, no sticky varnish or odorous turpentine to 
soil your dainty fingers or offend your delicate olfacto- 
ries. Your operations will be confined chiefly to the 
dry-goods store and the drawing-room. Yoa must 
promise to be superior to fashion and her arbitrary 
rules, v/hich are all very well in their way ; but you as 
artists will be expected to go deeper than that. A 
short course of mathematics will be required, enough 
to enable a lady to calculate with exactness the effect 
of a certain style of dress upon the person whom she 
wishes to influence. A good deal of penetration is 



150 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

necessary, and a thoroiigli knowledge of human nature, 
for you will Lave to discover at a glance the peculiar 
kind of person you dA'^ dealing \vith. You must know 
instantly his tastes, fancies, preferences, prejudices, his 
likes and dislikes, Ac, &c., so as to know for a cer- 
tainty what will influence him most surely and pleas- 
antly. Suppose, for instance, you have a bashful beau, 
one who of his own free will would never, never pro- 
pose, who would be capable of mistaking a gentle mel- 
ancholy for an attack of dyspepsia, and who would be 
driven entirely off the field by even the suspicion of a 
tear. Now, how is that young man to be taught the 
state of his own heart and the remedy, without a sac- 
rifice of maiden delicacy ? Suppose from your sitting- 
room window you behold that blushing, hesitating, 
over-sensitive youth nervously pulling the ball. You 
know well the secret which he is trying to hide. 
Your woman's wit tells you that much, and your 
woman's heart goes out in affectionate sympathy to- 
wards the timid lad ; yet you know not how to help 
him out of his troubles. An easy method is at hand. 
Take off instantly that stiff, heavy silk you have on, 
down with the high forbidding rolls, off with that huge 
gold pin which is in itself a breastplate or a shield to 
ward off Cupid's darts ; the soul of the timid man 
will be crushed if you descend upon him so armored 
and fenced around and unapproachable, and he will 
go away, bearing his heavy burden as he has done so 
many times before. But now throw on quickly and 
gracefully that soft white muslin you have worn two 
seasons, catch up a fresh geranium leaf and pin it in 
your collar, arrange your hair simply, and go down 
to the parlor looking youthful and modest and depen- 



Til e A d d is o a R e u n i o n Pa pers. 151 

dent, &c., and behold ! the bashful man becomes a hero 
on the spot. He is not afraid to woo this gentle little 
maiden, in contrast with whom he feels himself so 
strong, so able to defend, so willing to protect. In 
after years, when he comes to be told the secret, he 
will not know which to admire the more, his little 
wife or the innocent art by which she won him. The 
reverse is to be observed when the lover is too 'self- 
confident, or has been the hero of many battles. 

The professions are extremely difficult to manage, and 
require a very peculiar kind of toilet. The'purely lit- 
erary man is the most 'unsuspecting'^of human beings, 
and calls for less of art in his capture. All you have 
to do is to wear very neat linen collars to your dresses, 
and appear sometimes with your sleeves tucked up as 
though you had been making rolls for breakfast. If 
he still holds off, a precious little black-silk apron 
with pockets (mind about the pockets) will finish the 
business. He will forget all about his Greek roots, 
and go down upon his knees as beautifully as any 
love-sick midshipman. A silver thimble or a dainty 
key-basket has been known to bring down a judge ; but 
all this is entre nous. 

You will agree with me by this time that it is a glo- 
rious thing thus to combine adornment with philosophy, 
and thereby solve the most difficult 'problems by an 
appropriate use of shades and textures. 

Why need woman seek the ballot when so wide a 
field is open for the display of her powers ? When 
this subject comes to be fully understood, the dry- 
goods store will become a temple of Minerva as well 
as of the Graces ; and it will be no unusual sight to 
see a little beauty bending her fair forehead and knit- 



152 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

ting her delicate brov/s over a box of millinery, cogi- 
tating deeply upon tlie subject, and making up her 
mind as to the probable mental or moral effect of a 
blue ribbon. 

Let us then learn a lesson. Husband, dress your 
wife in gentle, modest, tender colors, and you will 
have her an angel at your side. Wife, keep your 
good man in immaculate shirt-bosoms ; let him have 
the softest dressing-gown and the daintiest slippers 
when he returns at eve, and rest assured your home 
will be the cheerier for it. A man cant scold when 
he feels so cared for and so comfortable. 

Alis. 



The Addison Reunion Fapers, 153 



A TRIBUTE 

To THE Rev. Peter Light Wilson, 

Under whose oninistry the author was converted. 

All bail, ambassador of Obrist ! Witb joy 
I greet tbee, and would fain a tribute lay 
Upon affection's sbrine. I dedicate 
These lines, the promptings of a loving heart. 
To thee, sweet messenger from Heaven's court. 
Unskilled the hand which now essays the harp, 
But v/orthy love the golden chorda may thrill, 
And sound thy praise in an harmonious lay. 

Afar I stood, and hearing Heaven's voice, 
Did tremble, at its thunder sore afraid ; 
Then thou didst come, commissioned from above 
To bear to bruised hearts a soothing balm, 
And didst approach me as I stood afar ; 
With heavenly love thy countenance did shine, 
Thy dulcet voice above the thunder sounds. 
And bears a message sweet to stricken souls. 

With joy I scarce thy presence welcomed. 
E'er hell, opposing thee, a sudden mine 
Sprung at my feet, and I precipitate 
Into its depths, had found destruction sure 
But for thy prayers, and for the prayers and tears 
Of other loved ones who beheld me thus ; 
And Satan's arms, expectant stretched to take 
Another victim in his rough embrace, 



154 The Addison Reunion Paxters. 

Were robbed ; kind Heaven had heard your prayers, 

and came, 
All praise to Jesus name, to my relief. 

Exhorted then by thee, my more than friend, 

In haste I now forsake the dangerous path ; 

And guided by thy counsel, straightway take 

Another way which leads me on and up. 

The joy which filled my soul at my escape 

"Was more than I can tell ; with gratitude 

I saw in thee the agent sent by Heaven 

To rescue me from hell's avenging fires. 

To God supreme be first my love and praise ; 

And next to thee, my pastor and my friend. 

My obligations I can ne'er discharge, 

But debtor still to Jesus' love remain. 

Nor can I pay the debt I owe to thee ; 

But this I trust, another soul shall shine 

In heaven's court to deck thy glittering crown. 

In this aspiring lay the muse would sing 

Thy perfect praise ; for through long, weary years 

Thou labored hast for man's sublimest good. 

The morn of life, ay, e'en its noon is past ; 

Its post-meridian finds thee at thy work, 

Disdaining ease, unwearied by the past, 

And gathering for the heavenly garner still, 

A peer among thy brethren, and a light, 

A burning, shining light in God's own Church. 

V/hat more of praise can fondest friend bestow ? 
Thy work of love, the labors of thy life, 
Uprear a monument more lasting far 
Than shaft of polished stone or sculptured bust ; 



The Addison Reunion Paper's. 155 

For evGQ marble crumbles into dust, 

And tbe remorseless hand of time doth mar 

The lineaments of earth's great heroes, cut 

With nicest care from most enduring rock. 

But love, and love's fair fruit, shall never die : 

And so thy memory shall ever dwell 

Like sweetest music at affection's shrine. 

B. 



156 The Addison Reunion Fai^crs. 



FEBRUARY 22nd. 

The day we celebrate shall ever be 
Most sacred to tlie cause of Liberty ; 
For on this day was born ber noblest son — 
Columbia's own immortal Washington . 

In him from childhood tokens were discerned 
Of the great fame his mighty manhood earned ; 
Nor e'en in life's decline did aught occur 
To dim the splendor of his character. 

His path we liken to the shining light 
Which up to perfect day grows still more bright ; 
Then shines till evening with a steady ray, 
And in a flood of glory dies away. 

Down through the range of centuries to come, 
In every land where freedom finds a home, 
Will he be praised, .who both with sword and pen 
Marked out the way of liberty to men. 

In battle he the dread of tyrants was ; 
In peace, the man the grateful people chose ; 
In every sphere he held the loftiest -place — 
Sire of his country, wonder of his race. 

J. T. W. 



The Addison Reiinion Papers. 157 



FREEMASONRY. 

An Essay. 

It has been suggested that an article on Masonry 
would be a welcome contribution to the pages of a 
volume intended for circulation in a community largely 
composed of members of the fraternity ; and I, being 
the Master of a Lodge, have been asked to farnish such 
an article. With this request I cheerfully comply ; for 
if I can succeed in presenting a clear statement of the 
characteristics of Freemasonry, I feel that I shall be 
conferring a benefit not only on my uninitiated readers, 
but even on those among them who have penetrated 
into the most secret recesses of our mystic temple, 
• '* our house not made v/ith hands." I say this with the 
greater confidence because I know that erroneous, or at 
least inadequate notions of Masonry prevail to a large 
extent in the public mind, and because I know also 
that such notions prevail to much too large an extent 
among the masses of Masons themselves. To the public, 
Masonry appears simply as one of a great number of 
so-called " secret societies," differing from the others 
only in the peculiarity of its language, the nature of 
its ceremonies, and the badges and titles of its ofiicers ; 
while to many v/ho ought to know better, it is simply 
a system of ingeniously arranged "degrees" through 
which the "candidate" is to be hurried with the 
utmost rapidity ; simply a ritual whose words he is to 
master as soon as possible, that he may win and wear 
the title of a " bright " workman from brethren even 
more ignorant than himself of the very genius of 



158 77ie Addison Reunion Papers. 

the "mystic art." Now, iu order to remove these 
erroneous views, it v/ill be necessary for me to assert 
for Freemasonry such distinctive features as com- 
pletely sever it from all other organisations whatsoever ; 
but in doing so I shall only offer what on the least 
reflection or inquiry, will be' found to be thoroughly 
established, incontrovertible facts. 

The first note, then, or distinction of Freemasonry 
to which I shall allude, is its antiquity. Here, con- 
fessedly, it stands separate and alone. Prominent and 
world-wide as is its present celebrity, its origin is 
shrouded in the mists of a far-off past to which history 
itself furnishes no clue. Like the river Nile, it confers 
inestimable benefits on the region through which it 
takes its course ; like the river Nile, its source is the 
mystery and the conjecture of the centuries. For the 
three or four hundred years along which its written 
annals lead us, we can track it with unerring certainty. 
It appears and disappears, and reappears. Its '^ light " 
flashes across the trestle-board on which Sir Christo- 
pher Wren drew his grand designs for St. Paul's Cath- 
edral in 1670. Its implements were wielded by King 
James I. when, in 1607, he laid the foundation-stone 
of Inigo Jones's masterpiece, the banqueting-house at 
Whitehall. Its mysteriousness aroused the womanly jeal- 
ousy of Queen Elizabeth in 1560. An Act of Henry the 
Sixth's Parliament, in 1425, bears witness to the impor- 
tance of Masonry at that early date. Or we may skip 
the intervening five hundred years, and go on back to 
926, when Prince Edwin assembled the English Masons 
at York, and then and there constituted the first 
English Grand Lodge, from which the Brethren in this 
country derive their authority by legitimate descent 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 150 

through so many generations. Thus far back, I say, 
our way is comparatively plain ; but at this point 
history abandons us to conjecture. Into the vast field 
opened by learned investigation on this branch of the 
subject, I do not propose "to enter. It is enough for our 
present purpose to say, that so old is the Masonic Order 
that its origin is unknown to authentic history, and is 
therefore only a theme for brilliant but uncertain 
guesses. 

Here then, my brethren of the mystic tie, you see 
one great distinctive feature of your heritage. You 
have fallen heir to the aspirations, _the toils,Hhe unsel- 
fish devotion, and the piety of the ages. Should you 
ever be tempted to engage lightly or thoughtlessly in 
your Masonic labors ; should you ever grow weary of 
the old routine and crave after novelties and innova- 
tions in the "work," remember that uncounted centu- 
ries look down upon you, not only from the Pyramids, 
as Napoleon told his warriors, but also from every 
dome and tower and battlement and cross-crowned 
spire of the Old World ! 

The second distinctive mark of Freemasonry which 
claims our notice is its wide-spread diflfusion. Long as 
the " royal art " had been practised in England, it was 
not until 1733 that the first regular Lodge was consti- 
tuted in North America — St. John's Lodge in Boston, 
which is still in existence. But before the War of the 
Revolution began. Masonry had made such progress- 
that it numbered in its ranks the choicest spirits of 
the New World, The men of heroic mould who inau- 
gurated the movement for our national independence, 
the men who signed that immortal declaration which 
is the great charter of our liberties, the men who 



160 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

fought the battles of the young republic and guided 
its first steps along the path of grandeur it is destined 
to tread ; these men, with scarcely an exception, were 
members of the Masonic order, imbued with its sub- 
lime teachings and inspired by its lofty theories as to 
the innate dignity and nobility of the human race. 
All honor to the memory of these master-workmen 1 
they " rest from their labors and their works do follow 
them." Stamped thus at its outset by the impress of 
such great minds, Masonry spread rapidly over the 
States of the new Union. 

It has survived one of the most unprovoked and 
malignant persecutions our age has witnessed, and 
now stands in calm triumph upon the grave of that 
anti-Masonry at whose head blooms no sprig of acacia, 
and whose dishonored dust no resurrection-voice will 
ever summon back to life. Its peaceful influence is 
felt throughout the continent. It follows in the foot- 
steps of our hardy Western pioneers. Its altars are 
reared in every Territory. Its blue banner has waved 
in Arctic seas, and has even been borne by our gallant 
brother, the explorer Hayes, to the 82d parallel of 
north latitude, to a point within five hundred miles of 
the North Pole. And so, too, through Mexico and 
South America and the islands of both oceans it has 
made its peaceful v/ay, and gathered to itself the man- 
hood of the tropics. In the Eastern hemisphere, ex- 
cept in those few countries where the despotism of 
Church and State bars its entrance, it flourishes in 
vigor and beauty. Nobles, kings, and emperors are 
proud to be called its patrons and its friends. By 
means as hidden and mysterious as that electric thread 
which lies in the depths of the broad Atlantic, it con- 



The Addison Reunion Paj'^ers. 161 

veys across seas and continents its messages of love 
and its v/ords of " liberty, equality, fraternity." The 
sound of the Master's gavel — to appropriate what 
has been said of the morning drum-beat of the British 
Empire — following the sun, circles the earth with one 
continuous and unbroken call to labor in the great 
field of humanity and progress. 

But it may perhaps be said an institution so diffused 
throughout the world will be one thing in Europe, 
another in America, still another in Asia, Not so ; 
and to show why it is not so, I now proceed to men- 
tion the third characteristic feature of Freemasonry — 
I mean the uniformity of its language and legends. 
It will of course, be evident that one secret of the 
spread of the Order is the wonderful flexibility with 
which it adapts itself to various national peculiarities, 
and that there must of necessity be from this very 
flexibility many minor differences in the ritual — in 
what is known in the Lodges as the " work " ; but 
with this qualification, all Masonry, American or Eng- 
lish, Scotch or Irish, French or German, Italian or 
Spanish, is essentially one and the same Masonry. 
Its symbolism, its traditions, its templar nomenclature, 
its sign-language, these are everywhere the same. Cen- 
turies ago it was the boast of the *' Craft " that they 
possessed a universal language, by means of which 
men of every country and tongue could communicate 
with freedom and unreserve. The boast is no idle one. 
Masonry has a voice, audible everywhere, and every- 
where understood by the " children of light." And 
what is more, this voice cannot be drowned by the din 
of war nor by the clamor of political strife. It " syl- 
lables " the "word," and the blow of the enemy is 



162 The Addison Reunio7i Papers, 

changed into the hand-grasp of a brother. It signals 
its distress, and the hatred which slays is transformed 
into the love that binds np wounds and holds the cup 
of water to parched and pallid lips. On hospital-beds 
and on battle-fields many a suffering mortal has blessed 
the genius of Freemasonry incarnate in the person of 
some ministering brother, with a spirit as earnest and 
reverentia 1 as that Crimean soldier's who turned upon 
his couch of anguish to kiss the shadow of Florence 
Nightingale as it fell upon the wall. 

Thus by its universality and its uniformity, overleap- 
ing the barriers of nationality, making every true Ma- 
son a citizen of the world, our Order is hastening the 
advent of that splendid* day, seen as yet only in the 
vision of prophecy and poetry, when 

"The war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle-flags are furled, 
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world." 

Now that I have sketched the three distinctive fea- 
tures of Freemasonry, its antiquity, its universal 
diffusion, and its uniformity, some of my readers 
may be dispo3ed to ask me, how the existence among 
men of a society thus marked is to be accounted for ? 
As an answer to this question, I have only my own poor 
theory to offer ; but I think it will at least bear the 
test which the old philosopher Ptolemy applied to all 
hypothesis, a^^sv ^aivofisva — it includes all the phe- 
nomena under review. In the first place, then, Ma- 
sonry is old, because the necessity for its existence 
arose very early in human history. Almost the first 
page in that history, we are to remember, is stained 
with the blood shed by a murderer's hand. " The 
Lord said unto Cain, v/here is Abel thy brother ? And 
he said, I know not; am I my brother's keeper?'' 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 163 

Now Masonry is the answer of humanity in its better 
mood to that question. It says firmly, distinctly, "Yes, 
you are your brother's keeper." It hears with rever- 
ence, it recognises as eternally true, that word of God 
which says, "The voice of thy brother's blood crieth 
unto me from the ground." As soon as the dreadful 
fact was clearly understood that diversity of interests, 
real or assumed, drew men asunder and raised the 
hand of brother against brother, so soon did the elect 
few of every nation endeavor to find a common ground 
on which men could stand, an influence strong enough 
to counteract the tendency to separation which threat- 
ened hourly to plunge the race into irremediable ruin. 
And this influence was found -in the divinely-implanted 
desire, the irrepressible yearning, of humanity for broth- 
erhood. Accordingly, whenever selfishness asked with 
scornful indifl'e'rence, " Am I my brother's keeper?" 
the choice spirits of the antique world, echoing the 
voice of God and the voice of reason, responded, " Yes, 
man, thy brother's interests are thy interests ; thy 
brother's welfare is thy welfare ; injury to him is 
wrong to thyself. Created by one Almighty Parent, 
inhabitants of the same planet, you are bound to aidi 
support, and protect each other." 

Out of this sentiment grew that which we now call 
Masonry. Working silently, unostentatiously, a little 
leaven in the great lump of humanity, its sublime aim 
is to bring men everywhere to a recognition of their 
true relationship as brothers of one family whose head 
and Father is God. True, its voice is often unheeded 
even by the *' initiated " themselves, amid the rush 
and hurry and struggle of our daily life. But not the 
less is the voice ever lifted up in protest against all 



1G4 



The Addison Reunion Paj^ers. 



that sunders the ties of brotherhood. It eays to the 
clashing sects as they shriek out their noisy anathe- 
mas, " Youv brother's conscience is as sacred in the 
sight of Heaven as yours." To the strife of political 
partisanship it says, " Eemember that the best and 
wisest men will often differ as to the f^-dfent, surest 
means of promoting the public weal : remember and be 
tolerant." It says to the Alps and to the Pyrenees, 
"Even your mighty physical barriers cannot keep the 
dwellers on your opposite slopes from being brothers." 
It says to the vast oceans : " Far apart as are the con- 
tinents upon whose shores your restless waves are beat- 
ing, their inhabitants are nevertheless brothers of the 
same family, and all your waters can never make clean 
again the hand which has shed a brother's blood. The 
damned spot will never out." 

This Masonic idea seeks its realisation by quietly 
ignoring, in the organisation of the Fraternity, all in- 
dividual differences of belief in politics or religion. Its 
wide-spread arms embrace all " good men and true " 
who are willing to stand unitedly upon the broad plat- 
form of the "brotherhood of man and the Fatherhood 
of God." 

Freemasonry then has antiquity as its first characteris- 
tic, because it was needed ages ago. It has, also, univer- 
sal diffusion, because its aims are co-extensive with the 
human race. And it has, in the third place, uniformity^ 
because its language is the primitive language of man ; 
the language of the Egyptian obelisk and the great 
Pyramids ; the language of the ' Catacombs and the 
Gothic arch ; the language of infancy and manhood, of 
ignorance and philosophy ; the beautiful, comprehen- 
sive language of symbolism. Having this language. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 165 

Masonry is enabled to picture to the mind abstract 
truth in concrete forma, visible to every eye. It sets 
its craftsmen to work on a moral temple, grander than 
the temple of Solomon in that it is indestructible and 
eternal ; and around every Masonic altar in the world, 
and by its triple lights, the ashlars are smoothed and 
the walls rise. Generation after generation of the 
workmen die, but still the work goes on. And in spite 
of many failures, in spite of small results — 

"Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, 
And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns." 



]GG Tlie Addison RcunioR Papers. 



SNOW AT NIGHT. 

By Thos. E. Van Bebber. 

What a night ! Sif tings white, 
Smooth as down of feathery pillow, 
Noiseless drop o'er oak and willow. 

Soft and slow falls the snow, 
Far away as eye can follow, 
O'er tall hill and sleepy hollow. 

Old barn-roof stands aloof, 
Glimmering ever white and whiter. 
Though night has not a star to light her. 

On all streams, like smooth dreams. 
When they come dull cares to banish. 
Ermine flakelets melt and vanish. 

By capp'd stack, hoofed track, 
Marks the spot where, cold and colder 
Cattle drowse with whitened shoulder. 

Eound the hearth ruddy mirth 
Calls joy's snowy wings to waft her, 
Calls on merriment and laughter. 

Bright and warm midst the storm, 
A fairy fire outside the sashes 
In mimic splendor sparks and Hashes. 



I'll e Add is on Re u n io n Fap ers. ] 67 

Sweet, oh sweet, for friends to meet, 
To catch the play of shifting graces 
Charactered on rosy faces. 

the night ! Virgin white 

Be all thoughts, all hopes, all fancies, 

All pillowed dreams, all waking trances. 



1 GS Th e Ad d i so}i Re u n i o n Fa p ers. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 

As I walked up the street one bright, beautiful winter 
morning, feeling unusuallj^ bappy, I met a lady who had sacri- 
ficed the little means she had laid by to keep her in her old age 
to educate her only son. He graduated a few years ago, and 
established himself in his native village with flattering pros- 
pects of success ; but an unfortunate love of strong drink, as in 
so many other cases, so also in this, has already blighted the fair 
bud of promise, and now that loving mother's heart is crushed 
with a weight of sorrow which no amount of human sympathy 
can relieve. On this morning that son lay helplessly intoxi- 
cated at a hotel in the city, and his mother with tears stream- 
ing down her checks, asked me the question, " Can nothing be 
done to help vnj poor hoy? " 

The following lines are a natural expression of the author's 
emotions and sentiments excited by the occasion. 

I AM very happy to-day, 

For the sun shines bright 

And my heart feels light 
As I hurry along the way ; 

x^nd the people I meet 

On the crowded street, 
All my friends seem merry and gay, 

So I cannot but laugh 

As the fresh air I quaff 
And dream I'll be happy alway. 

But a shadow hath come 

E'er I reach my own home 
Which takes all this brightness away, 

For there's one on the street 

Who by chance I must meet 
Whose poor heart is breaking to-day. 



The A d diso n lieu n i o )i Pap ers. 1 69 

'Tis a mother. Her boy 

Was her pride, and her joy : 
The story's an old one, and brief : 

He was tempted ; he fell ; 

Down the pathway to hell, 
As the fierce wind carries the leaf, 

He is rushing ; she cries 

Amid sobbings and sighs, 
" Oh, stretch out the hand of relief! " 

The sun shines as bright, 

But I heed not his light, 
For my eyes are blinded with tears ; 

To have rescued her boy, 

Would have given me joy, 
But the law ties my hands, it appears. 

Some will vile liquor sell, 

Though it sends them to hell ; 
For a license is paid, and they will 

Sell to any who call, 

To each one and to all, 
Though mothers and sons they do kill. 

Will you not, brother man, 

Do all that you can 
To avert that son's threatened fate ? 

For who most is to blame. 

And whose greatest the shame. 
The victim s, the seller s, or State sf 

I pass homeward, and meet 
On the crowded street 
The people so happy and gay ; 
1) 



170 Th e Add is on Re u n i o n Fa p e r s . 

But I cannot but weep 
As I think of the deep, 
Deep grief of that mother to-day, 

B. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 171 



WHO STOLE JUDGE PARKER'S WINE? 
By Eveeett. 

Joseph Parker, Judge of the Court for Frederick 
and Carroll counties, was decidedly the great man of 
the circuit over which he presided. 

He was pompous, vain, and conceited, yet withal a 
kind, good-natured, warm-hearted man. Heartily en- 
joying a joke at another's expense, he as cordially de- 
tested one at his own ; and nothing would so quickly 
arouse his anger as an undue familiarity. 

His legal opinion and advice were highly valued by 
a large part of the population, but were not considered 
to be worth a copper by the members of the Bar. For 
truth requires it to be admitted that the Judge really 
w:as more specious than deep, and that his advance- 
ment was owing more to personal popularity than to 
superior merit. 

Before the death of his father, Joseph had never 
been a very interesting person. • He was slovenly in 
his habits, and meagre of brains ; had neither money, 
a good wine-cellar, nor a pretty sister ; and how, there- 
fore, was he to win the respect of his fellow-men ? 

After the death of his venerable parent, however, 
Joseph's short, stumpy figure, and dull, dry counte- 
nance underwent a sort of transfiguration ; insomuch 
that he became very handsome in the eyes of the ladies, 
and very popular among all manner of men. 

The reason of this was that old Mr. Parker had been 
a cobbler, and his monetary affairs were supposed to 
be, in common parlance, " shaky." He was born, and 



172 Til e A d d i fi o n R e u ii i o n Pa p e r s . 

cobbled; got married, and cobbled ; got children, and 
cobbled ; got old, and cobbled ; died, and to the 
amazement of all, left a large fortune to bis ciiildren. 
From that time Joseph's upward progress had been 
apid, and now he had reached the goal of his ambi- 
tion : he was a judge. 

He lived in the City of Frederick ; and as it was in 
the days when there were no railways, he usually rode 
on horseback from his home to Westminster, at term 
times. It was a very grand sight indeed to the simple 
country folks to see the old man mounted on his 
old gray, prancing down the one street of the town, 
accompanied by half-a-dozen lawyers, and invariably 
followed by a little open wagon, used solely for the 
conveyance of a single large box. In this box the 
Judge was popularly supposed to keep his clothing, but 
in reality it was filled with a score or more of bottles 
of his very best wine — a wine the peculiar flavor of 
which was much lauded by all who had ever tasted it. 
A large quantity of it had been secretly stored away 
by his father, and the Judge stoutly maintained that 
there was no more like it in existence. As he was ut- 
terly unable to try a case or eat a dinner without a 
bottlB of it, he invariably carried a generous supply 
with him on his journeys. 

As Court was never adjourned until three o'clock in 
the afternoon, dinner was always provided at that hour 
by the obliging landlord, expressly for the members of 
the Bar. At this meal the Judge usually presided, 
he occupying the place of honor at one end of the table, 
whilst Tom Pullum " attended to things " at the other. 
This Tom Pullum was a young lawyer, an old bache- 
lor, had just money enough to render him independent 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 173 

of his practice, was fcl^d of his toddy, was addicted to 
cards, intensely fond of a .practical' joke, and, as he 
said, " didn't care a continental toothpick for any man 
that wore hair." He was also a perfect terror to old 
Judge Parker. 

At every previous session of Court had the Judge 
been made to suffer at Tom's hands, and consequently 
all felt sure that in a few days the old man's peace 
would be again in some manner rudely disturbed. 

One eveniEg, after a day of unusually hard work, the 
Judge, the Clerk of his court, and all the members of 
the Bar had assembled for dinner. They had by no 
means forgotten their appetites, as men engaged in ex- 
citing pursuits sometimes do. They were barbarous 
and fierce in their hunger, as their eyes wandered over 
cold fowl and ham, hot rolls and well-cooked vege- 
tables ; and they anxiously awaited the signal from th® 
head of the table to go to work. 

That word however was not given. The Judge sat 
staring in speechless surprise at the table before him. 
We followed his glance, and for the first time all 
observed that his bottle of wine was missing from its 
customary place before his plate. 

■ " By all the stars in heaven ! " he finally exclaimed, 
as a trembling servant approached him. " Why, 
what's the matter ? Where's my wine ? " 

" Dunno, sir. 'Twant me, swear tp God 'twant me ! " 

'• Why, you dumb blockhead of a nigger you, go to 
the cellar and bring me a bottle." 

" Did go, sir. I expect as how it were a ghoat." 

" A ghost ! Why, in the name of all that's good, 
what is the matter? Are you drunk ? " 

" No, sir ; I'm all right, sir ; but there's no wine 
there." 



174 The Addison R eunion Papers. 

"None there!" cried the enraged Judge, "none 
there? Then, you rascally nigger, you stole it. Catch 
him, somebody," he added, springing up and racing 
after the terror-stricken negro, "catch him ! Confound 
him, I'll— " 

"Hold up. Judge," here interposed Tom Pallum. 
" Come here and try this. I believe it's as good as 
yours." 

All eyes were at once turned upon Tom. There he 
stood, a roguish smile on his face, and holding in his 
hand, not his customary glass of ale, but a bottle of 
wine of exactly the same shape, size, and appearance as 
those which had grown so familiar at the Judge's end 
of the table. 

One moment the old man stared at him in stupid be- 
wilderment ; the next, a smile spread over his features. 

" Ah, I see ! " said he. • " One of your tricks, was it ? 
Well, suppose you just hand over that bottle now, and 
the balance after dinner. And let me tell you, young 
man, don't you try that little game on again, that's all." 

" The deuce you say ! " exclaimed Tom. " Hand over 
that bottle ! By Jove ! I rather think not. It's mine. 
I bought it." 

" Yours ! " cried the Judge, " yours? Why, don't I 
tell you it's mine ! It's been purloined out of the 
landlord's back-kitchen closet, where I've always kept 
it. It's mine, I say ! Haven't I been drinking that 
same wine out of that same kind of a bottle for the last 
ten years, and don't I know there's no more like it ? 
Say, haven't I, sir ? " 

" Can't help it if you have," replied Tom. " It's mine 
for all that, and I'm going to drink it too. I'll give 
you a little, though, if you can't eat without it ; but 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 175 

you were most confoundedly stingy with yours when 
you had it." 

The Judge was caught. He was sure the wine be- 
longed to him, as was everybody else ; but he could not 
prove it, and he could not eat his dinner without it. 
He was obliged to submit, and to have his small share 
portioned out to him by Tom, who took good care to 
make him fully understand how generous he was to 
him who had hitherto been so selfish. 

The Judge slowly sipped it, and when he perceived 
the familiar flavor, sulkily asked : 

" May I know, sir, where you purchased that wine ? " 

" Certainly," said Tom, " certainly ; I purchased it 
from Jack, the waiter." 

"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed the Judge, "I knew it I 
That black rascal stole it. I'll give him ten years for 
it, as soon as I get the proof, or my name's not Joseph 
Parker ! " 

After dinner Jack was interviewed. He was a 
large, portly man, a good servant, very polite, and 
much liked by everybody. 

" Jack," said the Judge, very coolly, " you stole my 
wine ! '' 

" Umpossible ! " replied Jack, " downright umpos- 
sible, your Honor ! " 

" No, sir, it is not impossible ; you did steal it. . No- 
body was allowed to go into that kitchen but you, and 
no one had a key to that closet but you." 

"It's my opinion, your Honor, as how it were a 
ghost." 

"A ghost, you idiot ! Did the ghost sell wine to 
Tom Pullum too ? " 

" No, sir, I did that. I bought that wine a week 



1 76 Th c. Add I so n It e u n io n Fa ]} ers . 

ago on a spec, knowing as how Mr. Pullam he were fond 
of it, and would pay me for it." 

" Have you any more of it?" 

" Yes, your Honor, ten bottles." 

" Bring it here and I'll give you a dollar a bottlo 
for it. Mind, now, I want every bottle you have 
got.' 

The wine^was brought, the money paid, and Jack 
dismissed. 

The Judge now determined to lock it up in the same 
closet, keep the key himself, and employ a watch for 
a night or two, in hopes of catching the thief. 

All the^next day he w^as in a most unconscionable 
ill-humor. :^: He felt sure that Jack had stolen his 
wine, and that he had been icstigated thereto by 
some of the members of the Bar. Three o'clock came; 
four, five, and six; the lawyers were ravenously hungry 
and completely tired out, but still he refused to ad- 
journ. He was determined in some way to have 
his revenge, even if he did punish the innocent with 
the guilty. 

Tom Pullum had been hard at work all day. By 
seven o'clock he had just finished his case, and another 
one in which he was engaged followed immediately 
after upon the docket. 

" Gentlemen," said the Judge, " we will now ad- 
journ for two hours. We will take up the next case 
to-night. This term has lasted too long already ; we 
must end it as soon as possible." 

" But, if your Honor please," cried Tom, " I did 
not — " 

"Silence!" roared the Judge. "Crier, adjourn 
Court till nine o'clock." 



Th e A d d i s on Re u n i o ri Pa pcrs. 177 

When the other lav/yers saw Mr. Tom Pull am hard 
at work that terribly warm night, in his shirt-sleeves, 
and bathed in perspiration, they rightly judged that 
Joseph Parker's wine wo'ild be undisturbed for several 
days at least. 

A week passed away, during which the Judge was 
leffc at peace. At th5 end of that time, however, some- 
thing seemed again to have aroused his anger. 

One day at dinner Tom Pullum was observed to 
have another bottle of wine precisely similar in ap- 
pearance to the preceding one. The Judge eyed it for 
a moment, then pointing his finger at it, laconically 
uttered : 

" Wine again ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Same kind as the other ? " 

" Precisely." 

" Jack, again ? " 

" Yes, sir, bought it of Jack." 

The Judge arose, went to the cellar, and was absent 
but a moment. Re-entering the room, he exclaimed : 

" Ah, I thought so ! Another bottle stolen last night I 
Where's Jack ? " 

In a few moments Jack made his appearance, looking 
more than usually innocent and sheepish. His stolid 
equanimity was sadly provoking. 

" You infernal rascal ! Who stole my wine last 
night ? " 

'* Danno, your Honor, unless it were the ghost." 

" And did a ghost sell a bottle to Tom Pullum too? 
Say, sir." 

" No, sir, That was a bottle I overlooked last week." 

" Oh. you did, did you ? You black scoundrel, you !" 
9- 



178 The Addison Reunion Pa 2:>ers. 

" Yes, sir. And I told your Honor as how it were a 
ghost; your man seed one last night." 

With frightful imprecations the Judge drove him 
from the room. 

Then turning to us : " Gentlemen," said he in a 
voice of utter despair, " what avi I to do about this 
thing?" 

" Suppose we send for the man who was watching for 
you last night and see what he knows about it," sug- 
gested one of the Bar. 

This proposal was at first rejected with contempt, on 
account of the known stupidity of the man with whom 
it originated ; but as no one ventured to suggest any- 
thing either better or worse, it was at last unani- 
mously agreed to, and the man was accordingly sent 
for. He reported that he had kept a strict watch ; 
that he had securely fastened the only window in the 
room, so that it was impossible for auy one to enter 
except at the door ; that everything had remained 
quiet until about twelve o'clock, when hearing a noise 
in the room, he opened the door and looked in. One 
glance had been sufficient ; he incontinently fled, and 
had hardly yet recoVered from his fright. 

" Why, what did you see ? " exclaimed the Judge. 

*' Well, sir," replied the man, " I think it must have 
been the Devil. It had a head like a horse, only there 
was no flesh on it; it was all in white, and there were 
flashes of fire all about it." 

Tom Pullum here remarked that he believed it was 
the ghost of old Roger B. Taney, who, he said, was well 
known to have had a mule's head on his shoulders, and 
who was also very fond of wine. 

Little Jim Moore, v/ho believes in ghosts, said that he 



The Addison Ee union Papers. 179 

thought it was the spirit of old Mr. Parker himself, who 
no doubt had been for a long time suffering for a drop 
or two of his favorite wine ; and he, Jim, would bet a 
sixpence that if we looked, we would find that all the 
wine had disappeared. We did examine the closet, 
and sure enough, only three bottles remain-ed. 

But this ghost theory, however well supported, did not 
satisfy the Judge. That infernal rascal of a nigger, 
assisted by Mr. Tom Pullum, had stolen his wine. He 
knew it ; there was no use of talking about it, and he'd 
be blessed if he didn't have vengeance. These were 
Joseph Parker's opinions, and he was not to be argued 
into any other way of thinking. 

Up to this time we had been of the same opinion, all 
believing Jack and Tom to be the rogues. But now 
this was changed. Many of the Bar believed in ghosts, 
and also believed they only troubled very wicked 
people, among whom they had not hitherto classed the 
Judge. 

Here was the evidence of a fearless, disinterested 
man who testified to seeing a ghost. The proof was 
sufficient — they all believed. 

Thus the Bar were divided into two parties, and only 
two, respecting the loss of the wine. One believed in 
a supernatural, the other in a roguish agency. In 
numbers they were about equal, so that the Judge stood 
in the pleasant predicament of being looked upon in a 
sinful light by one-half of his friends, and in a ludic- 
rous one by the other. 

When night again came, he declared his intention of 
remaining on watch himself, and he swore that he would 
arm himself, and shoot any man who attempted to play 
a trick on him. Ghost or human, it should taste an 
ounce of cold lead. 



1 80 Th c A d d i son E cunion Papers. 

Hitlierto the watching had been kept a secret, known 
only to the Judge and one or two of his friends ; hut now 
as the thief had appeared openly, and was generally sup- 
posed to be a ghost, there was no need of secrecy. All 
knew that a watch was to be kept that night, and all 
jvere anxious to see the fun except the believers in the 
spiritual, who thought it a sinful proceeding, and 
darkly hinted that if persisted in we " should all see 
what we should see." 

By ten o'clock all the preparations had been made. 
Three men were stationed at the door, armed with clubs, 
and with orders that upon hearing the slightest noise 
they were to rush into the room, and if they saw a head, 
they should hit it: all inquiries could be made after- 
wards. The door was kept closed because it was thought 
the ghost might hesitate to appear before three well- 
armed and resolute men ; consequently, these three 
watchmen could only judge of what occurred in the room 
by their sense of hearing. The Judge himself determined 
to occupy the window, as affording both a safe retreat 
and a good post for observation. This window was about 
five feet from the floor, and but a short distance from 
the closet wherein was kept the wine. Standing upon 
a barrel placed on the outside, the Judge's head and 
shoulders just appeared above the sill. The sash was 
raised to a height sufficient to allow of his springing 
easily into the room, should occasion require it. Here 
he took up his station, and patiently waited. 

It was a splendid night. There was no moon, but 
the stars made it darkly, yet at the same time brightly 
beautiful. In the room, however, the darkness was 
Cimmerian. The Judge was provided for this, as he 
held in his hand, below the window-sill, a large glass 
lantern. 



. Th e Add is on Re u n i o n Fap crs. 181 

About twelve o'clock, according to the account he 
afterwards gave us, he heard a slight rasping sound in 
the room. It was very slight, not even sufficient to 
arouse the attention of his watchmen. He kept very 
quiet, and watched. Presently there descended into 
the room, how he could not tell, a most ghostly figure 
indeed. It had a frightful head, somewhat in the 
shape of that of a horse, and the glaring sockets of its 
eyes were distinctly marked in lineaments of fire. Its 
jaws were immense, and seemed to be gnashing for 
something to devour. It was dressed in white, had 
the figure of a human being, and had a pale blue halo 
of light around it. Noise it made none, though it was 
apparently in motion. Oae look was enough. The 
Judge, by no means a coward, and firmly believing it 
to be Jack or Tom, fired his pistol at it and attempted 
to spring into the room. 

Alas ! the activity of his youthful days had departed. 
He did not spring high enough, and catching his foot 
upon the sill, he fell sprawling into the room. In- 
.stantly the ghost disappeared, the light was extin- 
guished, and the Judge was alone in the darkness. 

At this moment the watchmen, hearing the noise, 
rushed in, and seeing a man apparently crawling to- 
ward the closet, obeyed their instructions, as to mak- 
ing inquiries, to the letter, and began to pound away 
at him most unmercifully. 

" Hi ! Hello here ! " Help ! My God, don't kill 
me ! " roared the helpless Judge, not knowing for the 
moment who was beating him. The excitement had 
so changed his voice that the men did not recognise it ; 
but they ceased to cudgel him, and grasping him by 
the collar, roughly shook him, at the same time expres- 



182 The Addison Reunion Papers ., 

sing a half- determination to make a ghost of him in 
reality. 

Upon his giving his name he was brought out into 
the light, where by this time we had all assembled. 
He then gave us, in the most excited manner, the 
foregoing account, and requested us to accompany him 
to the kitchen. 

We did so, but the most scrutinising search could dis- 
cover nothing extraordinary. There was not even so 
much as the smell of sulphur about the spot. The whole 
affair was involved in the most profound mystery, and so 
remained. As the wine was now all gone, the Judge gave 
over all attempts at discovering the thief. Many be- 
lieved more firmly in ghosts, and Tom Pullum ex- 
pressed himself so far converted to the supernatural 
theory as to declare that he intended to reform, and 
that he should never again get drunk except in pious 
company. 



There never yet was a ghost story that did not 
prove a very simple affair when the key to it was 
found. When the last day of Court came, the Judge 
called Jack into his room, and offered him forgiveness 
and five dollars to explain how his wine had disap- 
peared. 

" You will do nothing to me, and giv6 me five 
dollars? " 

" Yes." 

''Put it in writing, sir." 

The Judge did so. 

" Well, your Honor, I took it." 



4 

Th V A d d is on Re u n i o n Pa pers. 183 

"Ah ! I thought so. How about the ghost ? " 
" Well, you see, sir, Mr. PuUum he fixed all that. 
First he 'suaded me to steal the whole box. I done- it, 
and sold part of it back to you. When the rest were 
all gone, I tried to get a few bottles more of yourn. 
But you watched 'em, and so I told Mr. Pullum. He 
fixed up a horse-head on a pole, covered the pole with 
a night-shirt, gtnd stuck a candle in de head, and dar 
it was, sir, as pretty a ghost as ever you saw. It a'most 
frightened me, sir." 

" Well, but how did it get into the kitchen ? " 
" Dar was de dumb-waiter a running- between the 
kitchen and de dining-room. We stood in de dining- 
room, took out de shelves, put in -de ghost, let it down, 
and when everybody was scared away I went down 
and fotched up de wine. Mr. Pullum he pulled me 
up and let me down. The night you was there no- 
body went down but de ghost." 

" Well, Jack," said the Judge, " there are your five 
dollars. You're safe this time ; but be careful, my man, 
be careful. If you are ever arrested for stealing, don't 
be tried before me, that's all ! " 



1 84 Th e A d d I s on , R c n n i o )i Fap ers . 



THE SABBATH. 

Day of days ! best of the seven 

By the kind Creator given ; 

Sanctified by ITis example, 

On whose laws we ne'er should trample. 

Sweet to me thy precious hours, 
Hallowing all my ransomed powers, 
While in worship they are spent, 
And to holy uses lent. 

Moments sacred to the Lord, 
Oh, what comfort ye afford ! 
Purchase of the Saviour's merit, 
Which believers all inherit. 

From the week-day cares exempt, 
Come, my soul, in faith attempt 
Loftier flight than e'er- before. 
Towards thy home on Canaan's shore. 

Salem's glittering towers behold, 
Gaze on streets of shining gold ; 
See the inviting mansions there. 
Catch the song that moves the air. 

In that world, all bright and blest, 
Every child of God shall rest 
When the toils of life are o'er ; 
Sabbath then forevermore. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 185 

For tlie emblem, praise tliy God ; 
Be its use well understood ; 
Keep it holy: soon thou'lt see 
Heaven, the great reality. 

J. T. W. 



186 The Addison Reunion Papers. 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 

An Essay. 

If recapitulation will awaken in the minds of the 
members of the "Addison Eeuni'on" an appreciation 
of the great genius, an admiration of the character of 
Mrs. Browning, I shall feel that I have at least accom- 
plished something in being one of your number. For 
in admiring the noble and beautiful, we aim after it. 
Ladies of the "Addison" proudly hold up this name, for 
she is a queen among women. Not queenly in person ; 
but she had the soul-lit eye and massive brow whose 
crown was majesty of thought. 

England has the honor of being the birth-place of 
Elizabeth Barrett. There she spent her early years, 
and passed through deep affliction, which no doubt did 
much toward the early development of the character 
which grew into such perfect symmetry. One great 
grief was the death of her brother ; she saw him sink 
beneath the waves, and so great was the shock upon her 
nervous system that it was months before she recov- 
ered. All the attention of physicians seemed unavail- 
ing, when suddenly there arose a more skilful healer : 
his power lay hidden in the heart's depth?. Mr. Brown- 
ing called at the house one day, and was shown into Miss 
Barrett's presence through mistake. Their souls met 
and mingled ; in her own words, she discovered " from 
Browning some Pomegranate, which when cut deep 
down the middle, showed a heart within." 

There is little positively known of her life ; but much 
of her heart- experience is given in her Sonnets from 



The Addison Reunion Fairer s. 187 

the Fortuguese, many of wbich are fall of sweetest 
thought and deepest heart-throbs. In one she counts 
the ways she loves, and says : 

'' I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
For the ends of being and ideal grace. 
I love thee to the level of every day's 
Most quiet need, by sun and candle light ; 

I love thee with the breath, 
Smiles, tears of all my life ! And, if God choose, 

I shall but love thee better after death." 

Though Mrs. Browning arose* from her couch to re- 
ceive her wedding-ring, in the land of poetry and art, 
beneath the blue skies of Italy, in her heart's home, she 
imbibed new strength, and during the fifteen years of 
her married life (which commenced in the autumn of 
1846) she seemed to have led a life of outward calm. 
Unlike most other poets, they were happy in their 
married relation, even as she was unlike all others in 
mind. They were twin souls, both bearing the fire of 
song within. 

She became the mother of one little boy, to whom 

she so touchingly refers in her poem entitled Only a 

Curl. 

'•'Oh, children ! I never lost one ; 

Yet my arm's round my own little son, 
And love knows the secret of grief." 

This poem is an expression of her sympathy and 
words of comfort to a friend who had lost her child. 

Mrs. Browning possessed a grand intellect. Her 
learning was extensive ; in the classics she was at 
home. Her writings have been objected to upon the 
plea that they were so entangled in the labyrinth of a 
buried past that they were accessible only to the stu- 
dent. While this may hold good of her essays on the 



188 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Greek poets, and a few of her poems, it cannot be 
truthfully said of the majority of her efforts. In her 
nature the sublime in mind and pure in heart were com- 
bined. '' She was a soul of fire enclosed in a shell of 
pearl." 

If her great intellect gave rise to the assertion that 
"she was masculine," we can but wonder wherein it 
has been evinced. In almost every production of her 
pen can be seen throbbing the woman's heart-., not in 
those weak, effervescent expressions of feeling which in 
displaying the surface sho'w all ; not in that unrest 
which embraces the first and every object which comes 
within its reach, simply because the heart was full of 
love, and in its overflowing sprinkles every object 
worthy or unworthy ; but that absorbing, enduring 
love was hers. Hear her own words from Loved Once-' 

"Say never, ye loved once: 
God is too near above, the grave beneath, 
And all our moments breathe 
Too quick in mysteries of life and death, 
For such a word," 

And in another stanza : 

" But love strikes one hour. Love! those wefcr loved 
Who dream that they loved once." 

The narrow boundaries of time were no obstacle to 
her flighfs ; her mind reveled in the great unknown. 
Whatever she valued assumed an immortal nature,, and 
she clasped it to her heart with the strength of an end- 
less affection. 

Among her pathetic pieces may be mentioned, Cri/ 
of the Children, Cry of the HumaUj Virgin Mary to the 
Child Jesus, My Heart and /, &c., &c. Mrs. Brown- 
ing's fancies were sometimes the sweetest ; as in con- 



Th e A d d is o n R e ii n i o )i Pa p ers. 189 

'trasting the rolling country of England with the Alps, 
she says : 

"View the ground's most gentle dimplement, 
As if God's finger touched but did not press, 
In making England." 

Oi'owned and Buried is one of her strongest pieces. 
In this she says of Napoleon, after telling of his deeds 
in a masterly manner : 

" I do not praise this man ; the man was flawed 
For Adam — much more, Christ ! — his knee unbent, 
His hand unclean, his aspiration pent 
Within a sword-sweep." 

Some of her figures combine grandeur and sublimity 
to perfection. The description of the horse on the 
castle-wall with ho(^ poised in air, in The Rhyme 
of the Duchess May, and the death-steed in the Drama 
of Exile, cannot be surpassed. Bertha in the Lane is 
full of pathos and beauty, closing with these lines : 

" Mystic Dove alit on cross, 

Guide the poor bird of the snows 
Through the snow-wind, above loss. 

" Jesus, Victim, comprehending 
Love's divine self-abnegation, 
Cleanse my love in its self-spending, 

And absorb the poor libation ; 

Wind my thread of life up higher, 

Up through angels' hands of fire : 
• I aspire while I expire." 

She also makes many happy hits, for iristance she 
says of Aurora's aunt : 

" She sighed and thanked God. 
(Some people always sigh in thinking God.)" 



190 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Thongh critics do lay bare many errors in Mr^. 
Browning's writings, thougli they pronounce Aurora 
Leigh a failure, yet it is a book you may read daily 
and find new enjoyment. While she does not advance 
with the precise and -measured step of Tennyson, yet 
she has many graceful curves and pleasing nooks which 
his majestic pen could never enter. 

Mrs. Browning does honor to her womanhood by 
adorning all her writings with the robe of purity ; her 
books contain nothing which need flush the fairest 
cheek. Indeed, she seems so angelic that one feels her 
spirit only trembled on the humanly. She understood 
every pulse of the human heart, and lived them all in 
her quiet life. 

While we wonderingly admire her great genius, 
while we despair, of attaining the heights which she 
reached in the literary world, though we may not be 
gifted as she was, yet we all have entrusted to us some 
talent for which we are accountable , and we may each 
be noble in our sphere as she was in hers. " Her 
greatest glory consisted not in her unsurpassed genius, 
but that she was the Christian wife and mother.'' In 
her heart-life we may be her equal ; and though our 
names may never be echoed beyond our own native 
hills, we can break the silence of angels in heaven 
whispering our deeds of love. 

In Florence, June 29th, 1861, aged 52, this pure spirit 
passed to its eternal rest. Says Theodore Tilton : " She 
beheld the heavenly glory before passing the gate. It 
is beautiful ! she exclaimed, and died ; sealing these last 
words upon her lips as the fittest inscription that could 
ever be written upon her life, her genius and her 



Tlbc Addison Reunion rapers. 191 

nory. What she wrote of Oowper's grave now stands 
written of her own : 

" It is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying ; 
It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying ; 
Yet let the grief and humbleness, as low as silence, languish ! 
Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her 
anguish." 

Ada. 



192 The Add ISO )i Reunion Papers, 



THE LOVERS' \VHISPERING GALLERY 
UNDER THE SEA. 

By T. E. Van Bebbee. 

I've heard of galleries, galleries submarine, 
Which lovers secretly, sweetly may whisper in, 
Where winged syllables fleetly are wafted through, 
Swift as the lightning's flash cleaves a black cloud in 

two. 
Come, my beloved one ! speak to me, speak to me ! 
How my heart throbs to thee through the vast hungry 

sea ! 

Where huge leviathans sport, far ofl* from either shore. 
We may hold- converse sweet over old ocean's floor ; 
Over drowned argosies, o'er sunken treasure-ships : 
Speak to me, speak to me, with thy fresh rosy lips ! 

Deep under mountain waves, deep under tossing brine, 
Far 'neath the touch of the sailor's deep sounding- 
line, 
Far as salt billows boom, far as tides ebb and flow. 
Loving thoughts wander now, aye flashing to and' fro. 
Then though between us, love, storm-beaten oceans 

roll — 
Speak to me, — stream to me, — flash through my in- 
most soul ! 



The Addis ow Reunio^i Papers. 193 



AN APOLOGY. 

Lines on a Stolen Kiss. 

My heart is filled witli anxious care ; 
Poor victim, I, to Cupid's snare. 
My lady fair, 'tis caused by thee : 
Charmed by thy face so heavenly, 
Invited by the place and time, 
I did what none will deem a crime : 
I found thee sleeping — stole a kiss : 
Who could deny themselves such bliss ? 
The prude might censure what was done ; 
Let others judge, I like the fun ; 
Their judgment will be all in vain, 
I'll bear the censure o'er again ; 
For fear of prudes I'll never miss 
The rapture of such pleasing bliss. 
But if you censure, lady dear, 
Unless some other hope appear 
Its comforts on me to bestow, 
I sink beneath my weight of woe. 
I guilty plead, but what's my crime 
Who'd have the heart at such a time? 
To rob a man of so much bliss ? 
It surely is no crime to kiss. 
Have pity on my wounded heart ; 
I beg forgiveness on thy part. 
Oh, do not blame, I humbly sue : 
How could I help what I did do ? 
I'll make atonement any way ; 
An honest judgment's all I pray. 
10 



1 94 Th e A d d is o a- R e u ij. i o u Faj) ers, 

Perhaps I did somewhat presume ; 
But who could see, in richest bloom, 
The lovely rose, nor sip its sweets ; 
The mellow peach, nor taste its meats ? 
And such temptation isTjut slight 
Compared to that did me invite ; 
No rose as thine on lips so fair, 
No peach to thy soft cheeks compare : 
I saw the chance, and did but try 
To steal what money could not buy. 
Now I submit my case is clear ; 
But pray thee don't be too severe ! 

B. 



The Addison Reunion Faj^crs. 105 



FAITH, HOPE, LOVE. 

Firmly relying on God's precious word, 
And trusting in my dying, risen Lord, 
I look beyond the scenes of time and sense, 
To that celestial, holy hill, from whence 
He soon will come, His saints to recompense. 

Heaven is the home for which my soul doth long : 
Oh, with what rapture shall I join the song, 
Pure, sweet and full, which millions there shall sing 
Eternally to God, their Saviour, King ! 

Lord, give me grace that I my faith may show 
On earth, by striving all Thy will to do. 
Vain, else, my hope. Oh, fill me with Thy love ; 
Engage my soul through life its power to prove. 

J. T. W. 



196 Tlie Addison RcunioR Papers. 



A VISIT TO HARPER'S FERRY. 

The morning we started was all our hearts desired. 
It was bright and beautiful. The waning moon looked 
as smilingly as it could from a cloudless sky ; the stars 
seemed to vie with each other to see which could twinkle 
the merriest ; and a gentle breeze made soft music as 
it rippled among the leaves of the grand old forest-trees 
which stood around us like sentinels to guard the 
sleeping world. We bade good-bye to our kind 
friends, and with a hearty "God-speed" from them 
started on our way; my companion happy in the 
thought that before the close of another day ( D. V.) 
he would meet his well-beloved and affectionate com- 
panion and children, who had been on a visit to their 
friends inVirginia ; and ourselves delighted with every- 
thing, and especially filled with glowing anticipations 
of the pleasure we would have in seeing with our own 
eyes those great natural curiosities concerning which 
we had so often read. Our sable driver seemed to have 
caught the spirit of the occasion, and afforded us much 
amusement by his droll remarks, which came in so 
exceedingly apropos as to prove that while his eyes 
were on the road and his hand on the lines ta guide 
his spirited team, so as to make even the rough places 
smooth as possible by care and management, his ears 
were open to all we had to say, and his thoughts fol- 
lowed ours as we chased the fleeting fancies suggested 
by the occasion over the flowery fields of imagination. 
And so it happened that as we hurried along, our way 
was so pleasantly beguiled that hours had fled and 



The Addison Reunion Paj)evs. 197 

miles had been passed, tlie stars had faded, the moon 
grown pale, the birds greeted us with their morning 
song, and the sun rising in cloudless majesty beheld us 
far on our way ; and we hardly realised that we had 
fairly started from our homes in the heart of Carroll 
before we were rapidly traversing the smooth pike 
which leads, amidst the fertile fields of the beautiful 
valley, on to the charming little city of Frederick, 
which place we reached in time to take the morning 
train for Harper's Ferry. 

We arrived safely, after an extremely hot ride in a 
crowded car. The heat was oppressive, and I will just 
remark here, by way of parenthesis, that I would not 
advise any one to visit this place either in very hot or 
very cold weather. Here I bade farewell to my com- 
panion. This was my first visit ; and putting a wet 
handkerchief (not a bfick) in my hat to keep my head 
cool, I turned out, into the heat of a sultry summer 
afternoon, to see the sights. I do not propose to detail 
what I saw, because this has been so often and so well 
done that a description by me would be superfluous. I 
visited first the ruins of the Armory buildings, and 
peeped in at the window of the house where Ossawatomie 
Brown and his fanatical followers were held as prisoners ; 
the only portion of the Armory I believe left standing. 

As I walked along the road at the foot of the preci- 
pice under Bolivar Heights, I heard what I supposed 
was the rippling of a brook; but I sought for it in vain, 
and I inquired of persons I met if there was not a 
small stream upon the heights, but those who knew 
assured me that there was not, so that I am led to 
conclude that there is more than poetic fancy in the 
declaration that rustling leaves and rippling waters 



198 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

make music so mucli alike that your humble servant 
cannot always distinguish the one from the other. 

After a long chat with a blind man who lives in a 
little house under the heights, and who has a great 
many wonderful things to tell about the history of the 
place which proved so entertaining that I would 
advise any one visiting the town to call on him, I 
scrambled up the side of the steep hill, up over the 
broken terraces, until I stood upon the threshold of 
what had been pointed out to me as the ruins of the 
" Kadical " (M. P.) Church. I scarcely knew what they 
meant by the term Radical; but I expect the Fathers 
are familiar with it. Shades of the departed ! what a 
sight met my eyes as I stood within the portals of that 
desecrated temple. It required, I assure you, an effort 
of the imagination to realise that the Shekinah of 
God's presence had once made 'its abode in this now 
desolate place. I desire here to express my sympathy 
for the band of worshippers who once met there. I was 
told they had built another church, and although anx- 
ious to do so did not get to see it. I left here, and 
passing over a desolated graveyard, made my way to 
Jefferson's Rock. I was told that there was- a tradition 
that, seated on this rock, Jefferson wrote his Notes on 
Virginia; and although I had no faith in the tradi- 
tion, it did not detract in the least from my enjoy- 
ment of the magnificent view to be had from its 
summit. Allow me here, while I refer the reader for 
a general description to Jefferson's Notes on Virginia, 
to clip the following from a little work, Annals of Har^ 
pers Ferry, published by a native of the place. 

" On one side of the town -the Maryland Heights, and 
on the other the Loudon Heights, frown majestically ; 



Tlie Addison Reunion Fapers. 199 

and imagination might easily picture them as guardian 
giants defending the portals of the noble Valley of 
Virginia. Between these two ramparts, in a gorge of 
savage grandeur, the lordly Potomac takes to his 
embrace the beautiful Shenandoah. This is the scenery 
of which Jefferson said that a sight of it was worth a 
trip across the Atlantic. It is supposed by -many that 
the whole Valley of Virginia was at one time a vast sea, 
and that during some convulsion of natui*e the impris- 
oned vfaters found an outlet at this place. Be this as 
it may, it is a scene of awful sublimity, and well deserves 
the many panegyrics it has received from orator and 
poet." 

"We visited Maryland Heights, and as we stood on the 
broken rampart of one of the forts which crown the 
brow of the hill, gazing with wondering eyes at the 
magnificent scenery which spread out around and 
beneath us, we were greeted with one of the most ex- 
quisite songs ear ever heard. The sweet singer comple- 
ted the contrast which struck forcibly upon our minds'as 
we contemplated the beautiful scene, so full of joy, peace 
and loveliness ; remembering that only a few years ago, 
from this very spot " grim-visaged " Mars had hurled 
the thunderbolts of destruction, and the harsh fife and 
the rolling drum, the rattling musketry and the thun- 
dering cannon had been the dreadful music echoed 
back from height to height ; but now the sweet songs- 
ters which had been frightened away, having returned, 
were singing their sweet songs of thanksgiving and 
praise that the loved angel of peace smiled once more 
upon the sunny South. 

One of the greatest curiosities to visitors is the great 
iron bridge which spans the Potomac river at this place, 



200 The Addison Reunioyi Paj^crs. 

built by the Baltimore and Ohio Eailroad ; it is shaped 
like a huge letter Y, and is a wonderful combination 
of iron pillars, braces and rods. It is said to be mar- 
vellously strong, and to our untutored eyes it seemed as 
if the engineer had tried how many iron rods he could 
put into a given space without destroying the graceful- 
ness of the structure. Indeed, so well is it proportioned 
that it seems to rest as lightly upon the stone piers 
imbedded in the river as a dainty maiden's feet would 
press upon a bed of violets ; in this respect having 
decidedly the advantage of the far more famous Vic- 
toria Bridge that crosses the St. Lawrence river at 
Montreal, which besides being as dark as a tunnel, is as 
clumsy looking as it is gigantic. 

Bidding adieu to Harper's Ferry, we stepped aboard 
the train, which leisurely wended its way out of the 
town, following for some distance the windings of the 
Shenandoah, on through Charleston to Winchester, 
from which place we continued our journey through 
th^ Valley, visiting many places of interest which it 
will give me pleasure to describe on some future 
occasion. 

B 



Til c A (Id is )i R e u n i o n Pa p c r .s . 20 1 



A SONNET. 

By Thgs. E. Van Bebbee. 

On Searing a Young Lady Play on the JTarmonicon. 

Lo ! as yon maiden's graceful fingers pass 

In mazy evolutions round and round 
Those tuneful vessels of harmonic glass, 

Through all the house there rings the magic sound 
Of such old tunes as oft some Highland lass 

Delights her lambs with on a grassy mound 
Or quiet pastoral valley. Tubes of brass, 

The mellow flute, the Moorish drum profound — 
All in their way delight melodious ears ; 

But naught with such strange force the soul absorbs, 
Or rivals more the music of the spheres, 

Than when, revolving round yon glassy orbs, 
Old airs are heard, once vocal on the Tyne, 
Sweet notes of Bonny Poon, or mournful A2dd Lang 
Syne. 



i(y 



202 Th e A d d i's o a R c u n to n J*a p p r s , 



A VOICE FROM THE ^^ SECOND STORY 
FRONT." 

Or my First Experience in Boarding. 

I BELIEVE it is said that when a woman is unhappy 
she takes to writing, I suppose upon the principle of 
the flower giving forth its sweetest odors when rudely 
crushed. The poet must have had some such idea 
when he bade us 

" Give sorrow words;" 
adding, 

"The grief that does not speak, 
\yhispers the o'er-frauglit heart and bids it break." 

I am loath to accept this as a general rule, for I can 
but think that if all the female literature which is now 
flooding the world be but the offspring of ivoe, we 
should not see quite so many happy blooming faces 
around us. However, be that as it may, I am impelled 
by some strong feeling within me (I believe that is the 
conventional mode of expression now-a-days) to give 
my own peculiar sorrow words to night (for who ever 
heard of anything being written in the day-time ?) ; and 
there being at hand no congenial spirit into whose 
sympathising bosom I may pour my griefs, I am 
furthur impelled by the same unaccountable something 
within to pour them out upon this friendly sheet, 
hoping, in the manner of all lady-writers, that they 
may find an echo in that heart of which plaintive men- 
tion is so often made. 



The A d d i s on Re u n i o n Pa pers. 203 

Young lady-readers, your sympathies I bespeak. 
Do not refuse to "give to misery all it asks, a tear ! " 
Some eight months ago I was thrown into a state of 
ecstasy such as young persons of my age and tempera- 
ment are apt to indulge in, by an announcement from 
my husband on his return from town one evening. 
" Sophronia," he said in his laconic way, " pack up 
immediately ; we are going to the city for the winter.'' 
Now be it known that our residence was near one of. 
the sweet little villages that nestle around the City of 
Monuments, and "the city" meant no other than 
Baltimore itself. To be sure, John and I had been 
very happy and contented durin'g the two years of our 
wedded life ; but where is the woman in the full pos- 
session of health, and endowed with even a moderate 
love of company and sight-seeing, whose heart does not 
bound at the thought of a winter in town ? Her vivid 
imagination at once pictures scenes new and delightful. 
Operas, parties, music, enjoyments both intellectual 
and social, are thought of and longed for. She looks 
upon " the- city " (magic word!) as a place full of- 
warm hearts and charming people, all united in the 
bond of citizenship, having thoughts and pleasures in 
common, and in fact as so many dear friends ready 
and waiting to embrace a novice and welcome her to 
their ranks. 

Well, John engaged rooms in what is called a " first- 
class boarding-house." He made minute inquiries as 
to the social status of the boarders, and found to 
his satisfaction that Mrs. Gen. A. and son, Governor" 
B's wife and sister, Judge This and the Hon. That 
were all inmates. As for me, my foolish heart beat 
proudly at the thought of being intimately associated 



204 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

with sucli famous people. I fondly dreamed of cou- 
versationa in which talented men and witty women 
should make friendly war upon each other, and be- 
lieved that every day would be a " feast of reason and 
a flow of soul." 

Thus dreaming, we started ; the trunks left behind to 
remain until called for by John, who must needs see 
me installed first of all. And now comes the pathetic 
part of my poor little story. I shall endeavor to give 
the events (of which there will be very few) in their 
regular order of occurrence, and I promise you that my 
reflections (which will be many) and the descriptions of 
my feelings (which will be still more numerous) shall 
not be one whit exaggerated. I will write calmly and 
dispassionately, as I'm a woman. 

It was a dreary day when our carriage drew up be- 
fore' No. 80 street. "It rained, and the wind 

seemed never weary " of sobbing round the house in 
the saddest v/ay imaginable. Sonietimes it drove in 
fitful gusts down the streets, and strong men bent be- 
fore its force as a ship bends to ths gale. The 
landlady was all graciousness, the rooms a perfect 
marvel of taste and beauty. John led me in some- 
what as the prince in a fairy tale would be supposed to 
usher in his fair bride whom he has just rescued at the 
peril of his life from a wicked old hag. " Sophronia," 
he said (dear old John ! he is always saying Sophronia 
in such a tone), '' Sophronia," looking blandly at me, 
and including in .one wave of his hand all the bed- 
steads, bureaus, sofas, &c., &c., that were so lavishly 
distributed through the rooms, " all yours I he happy ! " 
After which mild command my liege lord left me to my 
happiness (?) and went his way. And I, the temporary 



'1 ' k c Ad d L s on K c n n i o )i 1 *a p er s. 205 

mistress of all this mahogany and Brussels, sat me down 
and gazed around with a feeling of loneliness and ennui 
such as I had never felt before. I would have given 
worlds for a good cry ; but no, such was not a fitting pre- 
lude to the winter in town. Next it occurred to me to 
follow John to his office and tell him I was lonely ; 
but I reflected that the day being inclement the 
^'hoarders" might wonder to see me out on foot. I 
waited, it must have been nearly an hour (my watch, 
I discovered v/ith a horror unspeakable, had stopped), 
then rose slowly, and like Micawber, bethought me of 
my situation. " I must begin to feel at home " came like 
a " happy thought," and as the first step towards that 
desirable end, I locked the door very easy and took off 
my "things." Then I went round, creeping softly, 
and made the acquaintance of the inanimate objects 
the room contained. I opened the bureau-drawers. 
They were empty ; they looked like graves. A ward- 
robe loomed up. hugely in a dark corner, and I felt a 
superstitious dread of opening it, almost expecting the 
skeleton of the house to confront me with his grim 
visage. About this time my trunks arrived, and the 
next hour w^as spent in unpacking and putting all 
things " decently and in order ; " after which I felt ex- 
tremely dismal, you may be sure. Oh! I thought, 
what time is it? If John would only come, if a 
servant would knock at my door, if somebody would 
look in by mistake (forgetting in my dreariness that I 
had turned the key, which would efifectually prevent 
any looking in) — anything, anything to break the hor- 
rible silence that was growing intolerable! Bat as is 
usual in such cases, nothing at all occurred. I could 
catch the sound of "footfalls tinkling on the tufted 



206 The Addison Reunion Paj^crs. 

floor" of the room adjoining, and every now and then 
a ringing laugh from some girlish throat only served 
to make my lonelines3 more terrible. Oh, the horrors 
of a life of idleness ! If I had had pen or paper (all 
writing materials, by the way, were packed with my 
work-basket in a box that was to have come by ex- 
press and didn't), a little sewing, a book to. read, any-. 
thing to occupy either^ mind or body, I would have 
felt blest ; but oh ! I was beginning to sigh again, when 
just then I heard a childish voice call "Mamma! 
Mamma ! " and tiny feet pattered past my door. I 
started from''my seat [and 'rushed into the hall. There 
stood a sturdy little fellow of some three or four years, 
his Icheek glowing and| his eyes dancing. With 
his little fists he hammered upon a door just across 
the passage, and continued his call for " Mamma ! " I 
dared not speak, but oh ! how I longed for the baby 
to come into |my sepulchre. I smiled, I made 
frantic gestures of entreaty ; he stopped hammer- 
ing and looked at me. Then I grew more anxious, re- 
doubled the gestures, signed to him to wait a moment, 
flev/ into my room, 'dashed open a trunk, hastily broke 
off a piece of cake, and dashed back — he was gone ! 
Silently the door opposite had opened and swallowed 
him up. I stood aghast, the cake dropped to the 
floor; I had not expected anything so terrible as this. 
I gazed long at; the door opposite, I longed to see it 
open ; I began to^wonder what it looked like in there, 
beyond that cold door. • 

How long this lasted I know not, but suddenly I be- 
came aware of footsteps approaching, and hurriedly 
entering my own room, I sat down to my loneliness. 
It was only a waiter with a huge bell in his hand. 



TJi c A^d i .s n Re ii n i o n Fa p e r s . 207 

and presently the lively call to dinner rang through 
the house. Oh ! then for a time all was animation ; 
footsteps passed quickly along the halls, dresses rustled 
by my door, a subdued sound of talking and pleasant 
laughter came to me mellowed by distance. At last I 
roused myself and went down, with no appetite at all, 
to the diningrroom, regretting that my husband's office 
was too far off for him to return at midday. It was a 
solitary dinner, made more so by the presence of so 
many lively-looking people, who knew each other and 
who didn't know me ; but like everything else it came 
to an end, and I returned to my apartments v/ithout 
having once spoken, except to order my dinner. John 
came at dusk. I told him my troubles, for they were 
indeed greater than I could bear. He laughed at my 
woeful countenance, and tried to brighten things up 
all he could ; but by that time I felt that I was a 
martyr, and nothing earthly could have made me smile. 
" Come, wife," said John, " dress for supper, and you 
and I will have a lively cup of tea together, even if we 
are strangers to all the rest. Put on your pretty pink 
bow that you know I like so much, and smile a little 
for your tired old husband." * " Pink bow ! " I snapped. 
" Kidiculous ! If there is anything I hate, it is to see a 
woman go to a boarding-house table dressed out in gay 
colors. And let me tell you, John," I added, growing 
more and more outraged and indignant at every word, 
" you need not try to say any thing foolish or funny to 
me at supper; I don't want to hear any jokes, for I 
don't feel like laughing, and I wont laugh. Everybody 
will know that we are putting it on, and I am bent and 
determined upon not speaking a word. Pink bow 
indeed ! when 1 dim. perfectly miserahley This outburst. 



208 T h c A ddiso n Re u n i o n i a p crs, 

I am sorry to say, ended in a flood of tears, after which 
I felt a little more comfortable, and was prevailed 
upon to "eat a little something" in my own room '^ 
while I need scarcely say the offending and offensive 
" bow " was not mentioned again during the evening. 

My dear boy and I made it all up during the even- 
ing, and we called ourselves all sorts of hard names, 
and each declared that the other was the " best creature 
living," until we talked ourselves into a most enviable 
frame of mind, and closed our eyes upon all the 
troubles of the last twelve hours. 

Next morning came, and after breakfast off went my 
husband with the promise of some " pin money " 
by evening. Another day like the preceding, only 
more fearfal. No trunks to unpack ; no baby crying 
"Mamma;" no hammering opposite; no sunshine; 
no gaily dressed people promenading the streets ; 
no box come by express, and consequently no pens, 
paper, or sewing materials. In the evening I felt 
like a corpse, and would not have spoken aloud 
for worlds-; even John's voice sounded unnatural as he 
came in rather early, and shouted out a welcome as 
usual. "Oh, hush, hush!" I whispered. "Why, 
what is the matter now ?" was the reply, and then I 
told him of my second dreary day ; and as I talked nly 
husband grew despondent, and agreed with me that 
this state of things was simply terrible. Y/e felt very 
doleful and retired early without any of the pleasant 
chatting that was sure to follow the evening meal in 
our cottage. 

Three more days of utter isolation, and of course 
utter wretchedness, finished off by evenings of moody 
quiet between us, when one evening my good man 



The Addison Reunion Paj^ers. 209 

came home rather late (poor fellow, he had nothing 
agreeable to look forward to). He came in sulkily, 
threw his hat on a sofa, and sighed, " Well, wife." It 
was no longer little wife in these sad, troublous times. 
How surprised he was when I sprang gaily towards him, 
kissed him roundly, scolded him lovingly for being so 
tardy, and threatened him with going supperless to 
bed. Then while hanging up his hat, I commenced 
humming a lively air, and finished by opening the door 
and calling out " In a minute ! " to some one at the 
foot of the stair. John gazed in silence ; he could not 
understand the thing. I laughed wickedly, and he 
gazed the more, fixing his eyes upon me in a way that 
seemed to imply that I was either mad or myself 
again. I jumped up and shook him, and then at his 
scared look fell to laughing again in a chair. At last 
my good man opened his lips and pronounced solemnly, 
" Sophronia^ you have got aequainted ! " And so it 
was, dear reader ; I had found a friend in the house. 
A lady, serene, majestic, beautiful in my eyes, had 
spoken kindly to me after breakfast, then in an hour 
or more had knocked gently at my door, and on 
my opening it, had entered, telling me I seemed 
lonely and young, and oflfering herself as com- 
pany for awhile. I soon found I had made no common 
friend. Her mind was richly stored with knowledge) 
her manner fascinating, and just patronising enough to 
be grateful to one so humble as myself just then. On 
leaving she had invited me to the parlor in the even- 
ing ; had brought her little grandchild (the baby-boy 
I had tried to entice to me the first day) and made him 
kiss me, and at last departed, leaving a sweet sunshine 
behind her that flooded the whole room, and bright- 
ened my heart till I felt like singing. 



210 Th e Addison Re u n i o n Pa p ers. 

Such is the effect of a friendly word to the lonely and 
sad. John and I are now at home in the boarding-house, 
and the sweet, stately lady is my valued friend. I admit 
that the reality of city life has not fully equalled the 
anticipation. I have been disappointed in several 
things. I have found that misery and nakedness, hun- 
ger and despair oft trouble the- dwellers therein ; but 
I have also found many firm, enduring friends, and 
have been taught many -useful lessons. Upon the 
whole I am genuinely sorry to leave the fashionable 
boarding-house, and give up all the mild dissipations 
in which I have been indulging for the past six or 
seven months ; but my little cottage is awaiting me, and 
June is here with her sweet breath. I know the roses 
are clambering over the porch, and the scent of 
them draws me to my country home. We leave in the 
morning, and the dear- lady who first spoke to me 
months ago goes with us. 

Alix. 



The Addison Reunion Paiiers. 211 



AN INCIDENT IN REAL LIFE. 

Addkessed to the- Addison Reunion. 

The crescent moon o'er sunset liill 
Serenely fair was lingering still, 
And from the portals of the west 
Gazed on the world she long had blest, 
Which wooed her smile as oft before, 
Like lover, waiting at the door 
To sum up all the evening's bliss 
And cap the climax with a kiss. 
So Luna lingered yet awhile, 
And saw a sight that made her smile. 
What thus was seen the Muse would tell, 
Though Luna keeps a secret well ; 
This was so fanny, 'twould be wrong 
Not to respect it in a song. 
She watched you all, last Monday night. 
And laughed, for 'twas a pleasing sight : 
That jolly crowd of beaux and belles, 
Of lasses fair, and gay young swells ; 

But most she laughed that Doctor B 

His lady's illness could not see. 

Until lay fainting in his arms 

Two hundred pounds of female charms. 

Here was a case for which his skill 

Could not suggest a single pill ; 

So in the moonlight, lo ! he stands, 

His lovely burthen on his hands, 

Or in his arms a precious care. 

He calls for help. It comes. They bear 



212 The Addison Rcuni'oih Paj^ers. 

The unconscious beauty to the store 

Of Mrs. A , whose welcome door 

Was opened by Miss Jennie Keller, 
Who hastily had left her ^'feller" 
In wilderment so very great, 
He scarce was conscious of his fate. 

And then Miss K as quick as thought 

The counter cleared, and soon had brought 

Of water several buckets full. 

The Doctor fanned (it was the rule) ; 

He fanned her with a handkerchief 

(Indeed, 'tis almost past belief) 

As large, they say, as any sheet. 

Ah, Doctor, is it thus you treat 

The ladies fair ? The burly G 

Came bustling round ; and Tommie 

Kecovered from his late surprise, 
To add to the confusion flies. 

Miss Carrie B and Mrs. A 

Do all they can, and little say ; 
They understand such cases well, 
• But it will never do to tell 

All that they know about such things. 
They dosed their patient till the springs 
Of active life responsive thrilled, 
And every vein life's current filled. 
Then Luna peeped in at the door ; 
Such things she'd often seen before, 
And smiled in her peculiar way, 
And said: ** If you much longer stay, 
I'll have to give you all good night ; 
To wait much longer won't be right." 

Then homeward bound the party goes, 



llic Addison Reunion Papers. 213 

And Luna all her brightness throws 

Along their path. Miss Emma B 

Clings to the arm of Tommie . 

The Doctor's but a half support, 
This sort of practice '^ airit" his forte ; 
And if he don't improve, 'tis clear 
A bachelor's doom is his, I fear. 

This Luna saw while lingering still 
Above the crest of sunset hill ; 
And peeping through the window-pane. 
She saw Miss Emma once again, 
And kissing her pale cheek, she said, 
" May angels, hovering round thy bed. 
Bring gentle slumbers to thine eyes. 
And dreams of ' angels in disguise' " 
Then softly whispering "Good night," 
She disappeared from Emma's sight. 



214 The Addison Reunion Papers. 



MISS EMMA'S REPLY. 

The crescent moon that rose so bright 
O'er sunset hill last Monday night, 
Has bashf ally retired from sight ; 
No wonder that she hides herself, 
The naughty, mischief-making elf ! 

She and the Doctor seemed to be 
Leagued in some unknown mystery, 
Which for a time I did not see, 
So innocent I am — and then 
I know not much of moons or mew. 

My Mamma taught me long ago 

Both were deceitful ; and I know 

It's true, for does not this fact show 

How little trust we then can place 

In men or moons : it's a " wild-goose chase 

To follow either in a race. 

The Doctor wrote a touching song, 
Which took, I guess, the whole week long, 
And in the eyid he got it wrong : 
Fair Luna helped him in his verse, 
And thus they made the matter worse. 

This much is true, the lady fair 
Did faint for want of proper care. 
Now, contradict that^ if you dare. 
She told her escort long before 
Arriving at Miss Jennie's door, 



TJi e A d d is on Re u )i i o n Fa x) ers. 

She felt so giddy, and she said 
' I'm sick " — but Doctor onward sped, 
Until her weary, weary head 
Sank : but the outstretched arms of one 
Eeceived her, and the deed was done. 

With great solicitude and care 
They placed her in an easy- chair 
(Not on the counter.) Ah ! how rare 
To get a truthful statement when . 
Presented by professional men. 

A glass of water fresh and cool 

(I think that is " the general rule ") 

Was brought and placed upon a stool ; 

That huclcet story here I'll state 

Was false — ladies ^ 1 dont prevnricatc. 

One thing was very evident, 
When Mrs. Armstrong off was sent 
For whiskey, every eye was bent 
Upon that glass. Ah ! how they tried 
Each to be first to reach her side. 

They placed it to the patient's lips. 
She drank I think a few small sips. 
When Tommie 0. behind her tips — 
' How do you feel ? " With languid eyes 
The lady then and there replies. 

A conversation then ensued ; 
But in the meanwhile one was shrewd, 
And yet not meaning to be rude, 
Lo ! to his lips he placed the cup, 
And without parley drank it up. 



216 The Addison Reiiuion Papers, 

The party then proposed to start, 
The patient rose with fluttering heart ; 
Once in a while a glance she'd darfe 
Across the room, where Master Gehr 
Sat chatting with his Carrie dear. 

They left the store one on each side ; 
I do not think the Doctor tried 
His nervousness at all to hide ; 
Or if he did, 'twas badly done, 
"Whether in earnest or in fun. 

I hardly think it is " his forte " 
To give a fainting girl support ; 
Such a weak doctor I'll not court, 
For if I did I might expect 
To tumble down and break my neck. 

Ah, Luna I you may hide your face; 
And, Doctor, you're a hopeless case, 
If you allow yourself to chase 
The silly moonbeams without discretion. 
Better go and attend to your profession. 



Th e A d d is on Re u n i o n Fa pers. 



THE DOCTOR'S DEFENCE. 

A WOULD-BE Bard, of much pretence, 
Joins in a rhyme at my expense ; 
In self-defence I therefore state 
Some facts which are not out of date ; 

How Doctor , with moon-struck wit, 

Bowed to the shrine of ^'JVot a Bit 1 " 
Then bolder grown, he seized his quill 
And mixed up girls and moon and pill. 
He thought that Luna scarce had seen 
In our old town a group so green. 
Because forsooth a lady tall 
Into a doctor's arms did fall. 

And then Miss B , well known to fame, 

Has called to light my humble name ; 
That had the doctor but been quick, 
She had not been so very sick. 
Well now, he knows a thing or two. 
And even ladies who eschew 
Powder, false curls, and even paint, 
Will sometimes try a pretty faint. 

Now Doctor C , also Miss E , 

Thought I her illness did not see ; 
But if you'll listen, I'll relate. 
Affected by a tete-a-tete 

With Tommie , E hadn't quite 

Recovered from his sad ^'good nighty'' 
And though she took my arm polite, 
She was not feeling, she said, right ; 
And though I saw she acted queer^ 
11 



218 Tlie Ad d is o a R c u n i o ii Fa p e r a . 

Thouglit it because he was not near ; 

x\nd so, while we tlie illness knew, 

The cause v/as most apparent too. 

Of valor the part of discretion is best ; 

xA.nd, wisely, I thought I would leave the rest 

Of escorting to Tommie, who then could be near 

To support, if she fainted, his poor little dear. 

But doctors always secrets keep ; 

At this no one should have a peep, 

If ridicule had not been flung, 

Severely, oft, from pen and tongue. 

JVoiv, silence would imply a doubt 

If I knew what I was about, 

Or, v/hat the truth could nearer show, 

If the lady fainted or only feigned so ! 

Now this much the Doctor must surely admit 

(Excuse me, if I should not speak of it), 

These pretty girla with black eyes and blue 

Oft made him feel queer and act queerly too ; 

And if he did want of politeness display. 

The occasion asked more than he had to pay. 

He promises you the very next time 

Anything happens so much in his line, 

He'll haul out the hartshorn and wash oS the face 

With best of strong alcohol had in the place ; 

And the next girl who faints and hangs to his arm, 

He'll take a kiss for his fee, and think it no harm. 



Til e A d (lis Oil E e u n i o it, Pa pers. 219 



LINES SUGGESTED BY THE DOCTOR'S 
DEFENCE. 

A NEW aspirant takes tbe field, 

Forsakes his pills, the pen to wield 

In self-defence ; a modest bard. 

You see his case is very hard, 

And calls for sympathy, 'tis true ; 

But yet he knows " a thing or two," 

Or thinks he does, but timid still, 

He calls to aid another's skill. 

Thus backed and doubly armed for fight. 

He boldly strikes with all his might. 

A poor gallant, his awkward verse 

Has surely made the matter worse, 

Since all the point of his rude wit. 

So harshly put, hurts " not a hit^' 

And leaves the charge which we complained, 

His lack of gallantry, sustained. 

Now, Doctor, pray, wilt thou this do ? 

Kead Chesterfield, and Murray too, 

And learn to scan, 'twill help thy rhyme ; 

Be more gallant another time ; 

Thy lady then perhaps won't faint, 

Or if she does she'll no complaint 

Against thee bring. " Bards of 'pretence ' 

Will rhyme no more at thy expense, 

But leave thee to enjoy the bliss 

Extracted from the stolen kiss. 

And since the ladies know thy fee, 

The matter's leffc to them and thee ; 



220 Tli 'I A d dison Rcun io n Pa p e r >. 

Bat this I think they'd serve thee right, 
To slap thy mouth with all their might. 
Experience has not taught thee sense, 
Nor cured thee of thy impudence ; 
A little trimming, e'en though rude, 
May do our modest hard some good. 
Shade of great Addison, arise 
And teach the Doctor to be vase- 



Tlte Addison Reunion Fax^ers. 221 



A VISIT TO THE BIRTHPLACE OF A 
SCULPTOR. 

It was at tlie season of tlie year wlien equinoctial 
storms usually abound, that a small matter of business 
compelled me to visit that part of the State of Maryland" 
in which was born the celebrated sculptor, William H. 
Einehart, who is now practising his art in Europe, and is 
at present a resident of the city of Rome. The place to 
which my business visit was directed happening to be 
only a mile and a half from his birthplace, I determined 
to throw ofi' from my mind all ideas connected with 
dollars and cents, and to permit my imagination to 
wander at will over the boundless regions of Nature 
and of art. 

" The almighty dollar," I thought to myself, as I 
drew up the reins of my bridle and directed my horse's 
head to the westward, " the almighty dollar is powerful 
— that we all have to confess — but not a/^-powerful 
as yet, it is firmly to be hoped. Shall we permit this 
tyrant to govern and direct all our comings and goings, 
all our fancies and reasonings, and can we never for a 
moment emancipate ourselves from his thraldom ? I 
will do so for once, and visit the spot on which was 
born a man of genius." 

And westward over the hills we galloped v/ith light 
hearts, and I, for one, with a lighter purse. Clouds 
and vapors v/hich early in the morning had threatened 
rain, had by that time all dispersed, and the country 
which had seemed beautiful before, became still more 
so as we advanced. It was a rich pastoral region, 



222 Th e A d d I s o u R en a i o n Pa p e r s . 

with long readies of cleared land stretcliing from riglit 
to left, v/itli frequent herds of cattle, evidently of su- 
perior breeds ; the farm-houses built of brick, the farms 
provided with barns capacious and substantial, and 
mostly painted red. The whole land was freshened 
by the recent rains, and resonant with the music of 
cow-bells. Ever and anon we passed through a small 
clump of forest which looked like the park of an 
English nobleman, so clear was it of underwood and 
so lordly was the girth of the trunks, with here and 
there a tree on the outskirts which had already com- 
menced to assume the rich coloring of autumn. 

One feature in the landscape pleased me particularly. 
On more than one occasion we observed standing in 
the middle of a pasture-field a fine old American elm, 
which had been permitted to grow with all its branches 
unpruned and unmutilated, the topmost boughs wav- 
ing high in the air, and the lower ones hanging close 
to the earth, pendulous and graceful as those of a 
weeping-willow. The loss of the small fraction of an 
acre for farming purposes is in this case more than 
compensated by a rich spectacle of beauty as w^ell as 
an increase of shade for the cattle. 

Following the directions we had received, we pro- 
ceeded to a house belonging to a Mr. Rinehart, who, 

we V7ere told, married the daughter of a Mr. E . 

On inquiry we found that the owner Vv'as on a visit to 
the State of Missouri, that he was one of the brothers 
of the sculptor, that his name was David, that the house 
before us was not the old homestead, that in order 
to arrive at the la-tter v^^e should have to pass the resi- 
dence of Captain Daniel R., another brother, and that 
the next farm belonged to Israel R , Jr., all sons of 
Israel Rinehart, Senior. 



The Addition R dint ion rapcrn. 22.'; 

" Truly," I said to my companion, " we find ourselves 
among the children of Israel ; and if not exactly a 
Holy Land, I am sure it is a land flowing in milk and 
honey." 

" Of milk you may be sure," answered my companion, 
pointing to a herd of distant cattle, and journeying 
in the direction indicated. 

Soon we passed in sight of the " blue house " of the 
Captain, a house built of brick and painted of a blueish 
color, and so snugly and beautifully situated that I 
was almost tempted to call at once and have an inter- 
view v/ith the aged patriarch, who, w^e v/ere told, lived 
there with his son. But second thoughts induced us to 
move onward, expecting to enjoy that pleasure after- 
wards. The road led us down towards a beautiful 
meadow, arriving at the outskirts of which we saw on 
one side of us a picturesque little building overgrow^n 
with vines, and on the other open sheds under which 
were blocks of marble and one or two men at work 
there. A noble-looking boy, with a fine open counte- 
nance and rosy cheeks, who was leading a horse 
through a gate, gave us upon inquiry all needful di- 
rections 8s to the nearest way to the " home-place." 

" Your name is Einehart ? " said I, with a mark of 
interrogation in the tone of my voice. That was his 
name. "And pray what relation are you to the sculp- 
tor Rinehart w^ho used to live in Italy? " 

** He is my uncle, and he lives therg now ; and 
yonder is the house where he used to make tomb- 
stones." He pointed to the little house with its 
drapery of climbing vines. " And over there are the 
quarries where he got his tombstones from. Once a 
painter came here to take a picture of that house ; his 
name was Dielman." 



224 21ic Addison Eeuniou Papers. 

" And what," said I, " is the name of the stream 
that runs through the meadow ? " 

"Sam's Creek. On the other side of it is Carroll 
county, and on this side Frederick." 

" I wish I knew the Indian name of that stream," 
I said to myself (not to the boy), as we thanked the 
little fellow for his information and rode onwards. 
" It must have an Indian name, I am sure," I added 
aloud to my companion; " and perhaps as sweet a name 
and as fine-sounding a one as Monocacy, or Catoctin, 
or Patuxent, or Tuscarora.' ' 

"Or Piscataway, or Wicomico, or Pocomoke, or Chi- 
camicomico," added my companion ; " or Picawaxen 
(where our moccasins were torn), or Potomac (the 
river-highway), or Occoqua"n (the cooking-ground), or 
Quepongo (the burnt pines), or Susquehanna (the 
stream v/ith rapids), or Pasquahausa (where we go 
a-boating)." 

" And pray where did you obtain so much Indian 
lore, I should like to know ? " 

"From Kurtz's Fanners Almanac for the year of our 
Lord 1869." 

" Do you recollect the meaning of Monocacy ? " 

" The river with many bends. Is not that appro- 
priate ? Some of these beautiful words, however, have 
been sadly corrupted. Port Tobacco, for instance, was 
originally Po-to-phac-o (the creek between the hills). 
But Sam's Creek, that sounds a leetle too mean for the 
name of a stream in sight of v/hose waves was born 
one of the greatest sculptors of America." 

" Now place before it the v7ord ' Uncle,' " I added, 
"and perhaps it >vill not sound quite so bad. U.S. 
Creek ; how do you like that ? " 



TJi e A d d is o a R c u n i o n- Pa p c r s . 225 

Nearly as well as I like U. S. Grant, or rather I 
should say I could not possibly like it better." 

" I coincide with yon in opinion," answered I, •* for 
then the stream, small as it is, would seem to belong 
to the whole United States ; for well might any republic 
feel proud that such a man wa3 born within her 
borders." 

By this time we had arrived in sight of the residence 
of the younger Israel, which we found was not the ver- 
itable old homestead itself, but that it stood on the same 
spot of ground once occupied by the former. An adja- 
cent spring had probably been the reason for its selec- 
tion here, as in many other parts of Maryland, where 
propinquity to water i^ always preferred to pictur- 
esqueness of sight. All the surroundings are sheltered 
and secluded, as if intended by nature for the quiet 
pastoral nestling-place of a boy of genius. And here, 
far from cities or even villages, far removed from 
any great highway or crowded thoroughfare, passed the 
first nineteen or twenty years of the future sculptor, 
at first occupied in the labors of the farm, then for 
three weeks with a mason, then with a stonecutter, with 
whom he worked at the quarry above-mentioned for 
three years. It was this last occupation, no doubt, 
which first developed his latent capabilities for the 
plastic art. On the other side of the creek, and all 
through the meadov/ and up to the very house, we had 
noticed the " cropping out " of limestone. The whole 
country, far and near, seemed under-floored with it ; 
and thus in the same locality nature had placed under- 
ground the rough material on which genius was to 
work, and above-ground the winged genius which 
was destined to mould that material into shape. The 
IP 



22G Til c A. d d is n U c u n io n Fap c r s . 

hand which af&erwardd was to call iuto being forms of ' 
classic beauty from the finest Italian marble, was here 
first occupied in fashioning tombstones from qua^rries 
of a coarser consistence. 

William II. Einebarfc was born on the loth of Sep- 
tember 1825, about the time when the equinoctial rains 
usually begin to muster, and consequently ten day, 
before the sun enters Libra or the sign of the Balances 
nature thus prefiguring, according to my poor astrology, 
that after a brief season of storms and difiicuities there 
was to ensue a well-balanced period of calm, to be fol- 
lowed by the beautiful month of October; ?cnd that 
again to be succeeded by the splendor of a glorious 
Indian Summer, that pleasant division of the year 
peculiar to America and so delightful to the artistic eye. 
The birthday of J-ean Paul was on the Vernal Equi- 
nox, a coincidence to v;hich he often makes allusion in 
his -writings Raphael's birthday and his death-da,y 
each occurred on Good Friday. Shakspeare was 
born on the day sacred to St. George, the patron saiut of 
England, and died on the same anniversary. Newton 
was born on Christmas. These starting points and 
halting points of time, when they relate to men of 
genius, are to me extremely interesting and give rist? 
to many reflections. 

When we arrived at the home-place, brother Israel 
was out in the orchard picking apples. His wife, how- 
ever, was at home, and entertained us for some time 
very agreeably. She is also the daughter of a Mr. 

E , a circumstance which gave rise to the mistake 

above alluded to. W^hen the husband arrived we found 
him lively, intelligent, and devotedly attached to his 
distinguished brother. He handed us apples and grapes, 



Th <'■ A d (lis n !i R e u n i o n I \f ji ers. 227 

the last of which we found more refreshing than the 
most costly wine would have been. He also shov/ed us 
his fine healthy-looking children, one of whom was 
thought by the family strikingly to resemble the 
sculptor. He was also so kind as to show us a wide 
flat box filled with prints and pictures belonging to the 
sculptor. It also contained a small book of pencil 
sketches, perhaps his earliest eff'orts in that line. All 
thes3 pictures had been either made or collected pre-, 
vious to his first residence in Italy ; for twice has he 
visited that paradise of art, and twice has he returned 
to it, the first time to take up his abode in Florence, 
and the second in Rome, those two cities which to the 
a^rtist are what Mecca and Medina are to the worshipper 
of Ma,homet. 

Of the engravings which I found in the box, the 
greater part were French ; in the strained, theatrical 
style of that nation, and evidently calculated rather to 
mislead a young artist than to guide him in the right 
path. Thus a stream often meets v/ith pebbles near its 
source, overleaping which it runs on all the smoother 
and purer on account of the conquered impediments. 
Among these prints, however, I noticed a few German 
ones of an entirely different character ; solid and in- 
structive, and calculated to give accurate information 
useful either to painter or sculptor. Several marked 
out wdth great distinctness the several parts of the 
human frame, and the relative proportion of one part to 
the other and of each to the whole. There v/as also an 
engraved copy of a painting by Raphael, which, though- 
coarse in execution, must have been a rich treat to 
his young artistic eyes on account of the exquisite 
beauty of it? conception and the inimitable grace of its 



228 Til e A d disoii Reu n ion Fa j) e rs . 

grouping. It was nofc the celebrated Madonna di San 
Sisto, of which so many copies are seen and the original 
of which hangs in Dresden ; but though the same in 
subject, the mode of treatment was different. It was 
wonderfully sweet to me to meet with such a work of 
art in a secluded farm-house. 

Among those early studies I noticed one, the subject 
of which was the exquisitely poetical fable of Diana 
Endymion, showing how soon in life he had evinced a 
love for themes taken from Grecian mythology. To 
appreciate the undying beauty of such themes, a mind 
like his needs neither Greek nor Latin. Not through 
the medium of language, not by the force of words does 
such an one take in their beauty and make it a part of 
his own being; but by means of pictures and statues 
whose images pass through the eye into the brain, and 
thence into his inmost soul. It is to be hoped that 
before he finishes his artistic career this great Ameri- 
can sculptor may, as has been done by Canova, Thor- 
waldsen, and Dannecker, give us some fine, fresh glimpse 
into Hellenic mythology ; something genuinely classic 
and yet different from anything that has yet been exe' 
cuted; sooae new view of Castor and Pollux on horse- 
back ; some finer Cupid and Psyche than has yet been 
bodied forth ; some brighter image of Hebe ; some 
more captivating vision of the Argonauts voyaging in 
quest of the Golden Fleece. 

Again mounting our horses, we retraced our way to 
the marble quarries. There we saw a gentleman 
seated under the shed whose face exhibited a marked 
likeness to the pictures of General Grant. Entering 
into conversation with him, we soon discovered that he 
was one of the brothers of the sculptor — Captain 



Th e A d d IS n R e u n i o u Fa pers. 229 

R of the afore- mentioned " blue Louse." He seemed 

to possess some of his brother's talent for the fine arts, 

for we learned that he had once been a plasterer, and 

had turned his attention more to the decorative than 

to the plain workmanship of that business. He had 

designed ancf executed centre-pieces for ceilings and 

other ornaments belonging to the plastering of halls 

aud chambers. He is the father of the fine-looking boy 

with whom we had held some parley in passing ; and 

I thought to myself, when reflecting on the productions 

of the two brothers (the sculptor is unmarried), can it 

be possible that any marble boy ever fashioned by a 

Phidias or a Praxiteles ; by a Megron or a Polycletus, 

could equal in beauty aud attractiveness a real boy of 

living flesh and blood ? To a father's eye, certainly not ; 

and still less so to the eye of a mother. Oh no ! she would 

rather kiss away tears from the cheek of a living child 

than gaze upon the stone-cold smile of the loveliest form 

that sprang from the chisel of a Oanova. But to the 

eyes of the art-world the marble boy would appear the 

fioer. The fame of the marble boy, if of exquisite 

workmanship, would travel round the whole globe. 

Pictures and copies and plaster-casts of him would 

salute the eye in all galleries and museums ; like those 

of the Greek Slave by Powers, or of Dannecker's 

Ariadne. Like another Ganymede, he would be borne 

on angels' wings into the heaven of poetical imagery, 

there to enjoy unfading youth and unaltered beauty 

evermore. 

But before I could finish this long mental dialogue, 
in which so much might be said upon both sides, the 
Captain invited us round to examine the stone quarries. 
At present they furnish the material for door-sills, 



230 Th e A d d is o n R e u ii io n Fap c r s . 

marble tables, and the like. Compared with the mar- 
bles of Carrara or Pentelicus, they are certainly of coarse 
.grain and possess but little beauty ; but for certain pur- 
poses they are usefal and serviceable. For myself, I 
felt more interest in the genius which first winged his 
way from among those dead stones. 

" Captain Rinehart," said I, " permit me to relate to 
you a little anecdote which I have heard about your 
brother. You can perhaps tell me whether it is true 
or a mere figment of the imagination. A gentleman 
who six or eight years ago visited Rome, was invited to 
a party or festive gathering, composed principally of 
Italian and American sculptors, among the latter of 
whom was your brother. When the party commenced 
to be enlivened by good old Italian wine and boon com- 
panionship, each one was called upon to do something 
towards their further entertainment. Some sang, some 
told merry stories, some proposed riddles, some repeated 
verses.- When your brother's turn came round, he 
advanced to the middle of the saloon, gave a loud 
whoop, and went through a number of Indian war- 
dances with such spirit and animation that all eyes 
were opened v/ide with astonishment. The corn-danco, 
the scalp-dance, and others, were executed with such 
effect, accompanied by their peculiar chants and v/hoops, 
that some of the police, startled by the noise, entered 
abruptly with the view of putting a stop to the dis- 
turbance. When some of the company explained to 
theni briefly v/hat was going on, they joined for a 
time the festive circle, and seemed'as much entertained 
and delighted as the guests themselves. Can this be 
true, think you?" 

" I don't doubt it for a moment," said the Captain, 



Til e A. d d i .s o a K c k Jiioii Pa p c i' s . 23 1 

as tliough brightening up with the recollection of by- 
gone scenes. " I have seen him go through those 
dances many a time when we were boys. He learned 
them from a man. by the name of Sullivan, who had 
lived for many years among the Indians ; and so keenly 
did he enter into the sport that he soon surpassed his 
teacher. On Sundays and holidays, when a number of 
us gathered together for amusement, he was always 
called upon for the war-dance, and myself for a Dutch 
sermon. Those were joyous times, sir. He was full of 
spirit, but it v/as only good-natured fan, which did no- 
body any harm, and served to ej) liven the quiet of the 
country." 

.Upon my rema^rking that I believed his brother was 
still unmarried, his- reply was, *• He is wedded to his 
art ; I am sure he will never marry." To this I made 
no rejoinder at the time ; but upon due reflection on 
the matter, I will venture the observation that on this 
particular subject it is never well to appear too certain. 
Benvenuto Cellini, after storming about the world for 
more than sixty years, submitted himself to the ton- 
sure of a monk and entered a conyent, with the inten- 
tion of spending the remainder of his days in monastic 
seclusion ; but soon growing weary of penance and 
celibacy, he threw off his hated cassock, got married 
to a handsome Florentine maiden, and died at the nge 
of seventy, leaving three fine children behind him. 

Possibly in the case under consideration, the Captain's 
opinion may prove the correct one. Some men love not 
over-much the squalling of children and the cares of a 
household. The life of an artist at Rome, whether he 
be sculptor, painter, or architect, must be a species of 
charmed existence which more than anv other might 



232 T h c A d dison Re u n i o n 1 \i pers, 

dispense with the endearmenta of. domestic felicity. 
He comes into daily contact with the wealthy, the 
noble, and the powerful ; and particularly is this the 
case if he have achieved for himself a reputation. He 
is surrounded with boundless treasures of art, both 
ancient and modern. To all these have now been su- 
peradded the pomps and gaities of a royal court. He 
cannot enter a church or convent, a palace or a sub- 
urban villa, without seeing masterpieces of sculpture and 
painting. And when the sickly season or the heats of 
summer render his abode at Rome no longer desirable, 
he journeys northward^ shoots through a tunnel under 
the Alps, and soon finds himself in sight of the gla- 
ciers of Switzerland. 

Such, I am told, is actually the .life pursued by this 
gifted sculptor in the Eternal City. How different 
from the time when he whistled behind his father's 
plough, or drove a five-horse team seated upon a black 
wagon-saddle 1 And yet it cannot be altogether a life 
of fairy enchantment. Distinction, even v;hen won, 
cannot be maintained without ceaseless effort. The 
candidate for fame, like the Alpine climber in Long- 
fellow's poem, must inscribe on his banner the motto 
*' Excelsior," and his pathway often conducts him into 
gelid regions where a whisper may loosen an avalanche. 
Rome swarms with rival artists from all nations of the 
world, most of whom are thirsting for fame, many of 
them envious, and not a few malignant. Cellini's 
career was one life-long grapple with difficulties. Mi- 
chael Angelo, v/hilst a mere lad, had the bridge of his 
nose broken by a blow from the fierce Torrigiano, and 
bore the mark of it to his grave. Torrigiano himself, 
after a restless and stormy life, wandered into Spain, 



Til e A d d is on Re u n io n Fap ers. 233 

where he was denounced by the Inquisition for im- 
piety in having torn to pieces a statue of the Virgin 
which he had made for a Hidalgo who refused to pay 
him the price he demanded. He saved himself from 
an auto-da-fe by voluntary starvation. And if in our 
times men's passions seem to be under greater rs- 
straint, it by no means follows that their life-streams 
run much smoother. Your self-made man alv/ays has 
to master difficulties. Dannecker journeyed from 
Stuttgart to Paris on foot ; on foot he journeyed from 
Paris to Kome. To complete any considerable statue 
either of bronze or marble, much time is required, 
much severe thought, much hard labor, and no small 
capital. Why, even a boy cannot finish his man of snow 
without the danger of frozen hands and a snow-ball- 
ing from his companions ; and if he fail, he has to bear 
their scoffs and sarcasms. 

True ; and if the little snow-sculptor endures some 
pain, is it not in most cases more than counterbalanced 
by pleasure ? Is there not intense delight in grap- 
pling with the frost ? Behold the smile on his lip, the 
roses on his glowing cheeks ! The sports of the boy are 
a correct type of the labors of the man. 

And so I am sure it has been with the brave Ger- 
man-hearted sculptor of whom we are writing. If 
ever in moments of despondency he has been heard to 
sing with the old artist in Goethe's Wilhelm Meisier : 

" Who ne'er bis bread in sorrow ate, 

Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours 
Y/eepinj;; upon bis bed has sate, 
He knows you not, ye heavenly powers " — 

if ever, I say, he has sung this melancholy madrigal, I 
am sure the gloom has soon dispersed, and that he has 



1^34 The Addison lien si ion Papers, 

only to point to long lists of fine works conceived and 
executed by himself, to feel certain that he has not 
grappled with difficulties in vain. 

These random interviews in field and wood, by 
stream and old stone-quarries, are my especial delight. 
The ceiling of a room, though a lofty one, seems on me 
to act as an extinguisher. Besides, the Captain's con- 
versation v/as extremely interesting. He had been in 
all the battles of the Wilderness, and several subse- 
quent ones, and had passed unscathed through them 
all. And as he stood with his fine manly form and 
Grant-like face in bold relief before the almost per- 
pendicular wall of marble which arose behind him, 
and as with the modest and unassuming tone of a true 
soldier he told us what he had seen and borne a part in> 
and when with honest pride he mentioned occasions 
when it had been his good fortune to approach the 
greatest General of the age and speak with him and 
shake him by the hand, I longed to possess a photo- 
graph which should perpetuate the person and the 
scene. 

Again our conversation turned on the absent one. 
•* He must by this time," I said, " have amassed quite 
a fortune." 

Mark how the almighty dollar somehow or other will 
pop up and show his paper face and beautiful green 
back, even at times and seasons when we most wish to 
keep him out of sight! 

" He spends,'' answered the Captain, "as freely and 
rapidly as he makes. In order to keep abreast with 
the other sculptors of Rome, he is. obliged to live ex- 
pensively. Then his summer excursions through Swit- 
zerland and Germany consume large sums of money. 



Tlie Addi.^OR Reunion. Papers. :235 

Next summer lie intends to return to this coiintr}^ 
principally in relation to his statue of Judge Taney. 
He will also bring with him a bust of my mother Vvhich 
"we are all of us very eager to see." 

" Behold," I thought to myself, although I spoke 'it 
not aloud to the Captain, " behold a pleasing trait in 
this man's character! In the midst of all his orders 
from rich men and English noblemen ; in the midst 
of all his designs, classical, historical and allegorical ; 
in the midst of these grand works each one of which 
wdll cost its thousands, he devotes all his best skill to- 
v/ards perpetuating a memorial of his beloved mother, 
for which he will be paid only by the thanks of his 
relatives and his own consciousness of having per- 
formed a pious duty." 

The almighty dollar hid his ugly green back and 
dirty paper face, and appeared not again during the 
rest of the interview. 

" I believe," I continued, " I have seen your brother 
on but three occasions in my life. The first must have 
been some six-and-twenty years ago, whilst he was 
working with Mr. Baughman, a stone-cutter in Balti- 
more. He was then a very young man, modest and 
unassuming, who seemed intent on work, and but little 
inclined to talk. Mr. B. had observed in him the 
germs of genius, and had fitted up for his particular 
use a studio removed from the common workshop of 
the establishment. There I found him silently em- 
ployed in viahing hiviself, — an operation which is more 
important to a young man than that of making anything 
else. The second interview v/as several years later, 
and took place after his return from his first visit to 
Italy. He had grown to be a fiae-looking man, ex- 



23G Tlie Addison Reunion Papers. 

tremely pleasing in manners and very fluent in speech. 
I noticed particularly that peculiar vitality about the 
expression of his eyes which indicates great energy, 
and usually I think prefigures length of days. He was 
occupying as a temporary studio a large room in the 
upper story of a building on Baltimore Street, at the 
far end of which he was standing near a front window. 
But few objects were around him: I recollect only 
three, viz., a sea-shell, an Indian bow, and some mod- 
eling-clay. The shell was finely curved and fluted, 
and seemed to be a favorite object of study with 
him. He called my attention to Nature's exquisite 
carving, lining and chiseling, held it up in difi'erent 
positions, examined it from diflPerent points of view, 
and seemed never to be tired of contemplating its 
curious structure. Upon my asking him some questions 
about his art, he explained to me with great clearness 
and fluency each successive stage in the process of fin- 
ishing a statue, such as the modeling it in wax or 
clay, the casting it in plaster, the rough-hewing the 
block of marble, the giving the last touches and polish 
to the surface. Of these different operations the first 
and last mentioned are the most delicate, and must be 
)erformed by the sculptor himself; the intermediate 
ones may be done by common stone-cutters or sub- 
ordinate workmen, of whom there is a great abund- 
ance in Italy. 

" 'As to modeling,' he added, ' I can show you in an 
off-hand way the manner in which that is managed;' 
and then severing a small lump of clay from the gen- 
eral mass, he worked it about for a minute or two in 
his hands, and said quickly •' Here goes.' 

''And then commenced for me a spectacle which had 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 237 

all the interest of the most uttractive novelty. In- 
stantly, as if impelled by some sudden inspiration, his 
fingers began to move with wonderful grace and rapid- 
ity ; his eyes flashed fire ; the amorphous lump of 
clay, as if by magic, began to assume shape and beauty. 
Ever finer grew the shape ; ever more perfect the 
beauty ; ever more gracefully moved the plastic fingers, 
until in a space of time incredibly short for so delicate 
and difficult an operation, the model was finished^ 
the creation was complete; out sprang a perfect crested 
head of Minerva. Thus, in full armor, 9S old Homer 
tells US, leaped the goddess from the head of Jupiter, 
called into the world by a blow from the axe of Vul- 
can. I saw her spring into existence from the hands 
of a young American sculptor, and I shall always look 
back upon it as one of the most interesting inci- 
dents of my life. I am only sorry I did not beg your 
brother to make me a present of it on the spot." 

The Captain smiled and seemed pleased that I should 
have viewed his brother's expertness with so much ad- 
miration. And this calls to my memory a passage in 
the life of Michael Angelo, which being short may 
prove not unacceptable to the reader, as it evinces the 
same kind of enthusiastic rapidity in chiseling on the 
part of the Florentine which so much delighted me in 
the modeling of the American sculptor. It was written 
by an eye-witness, and runs thus : 

" I may say that I have seen Michael Angelo at 
work after he had passed his sixtieth year, and al- 
though he was not very robust, he cut away as many 
scales from a block of very hard marble in a quarter 
of an- hour as three young sculptors would have ef- 
fected in three or four — a thing almost incredible to 



238 Th e A d d i son Re. u n i o n Fa per s. 

one who tad not actually witnessed it. Such was the 
impetuosity and fire with which he pursued his labor 
that I almost thought the whole work must have gone 
to pieces. With a single stroke he brought down frag- 
ments three or four fingers' thick, and so close upon his 
mark that had he passed it, even in the slightest de- 
gree, there would have been danger of his ruining the 
w^hole." 

" And your third meeting with my brother? " asked 
the Captain. 

"Was a few months later, under my own roof." 

" Yes, I have heard him speak of it. He was in 
company with his friend, Mr. Francis Mayer, was he 
not?" 

*' Even so : and the gentleman you mention may 
well be called his friend. Not an atom of envy or 
jealousy, appeared to exist between them. Each seemed 
to admire the other's particular art more than that 
which he himself practised. It w^as beautiful to see 
them together." 

" It was indeed," answered the Captain. 

" So they two spent a night under my roof-tree. One 
had travelled among the Indians, the, other had resided 
in Italy ; both had already produced noteworthy works 
of art. One possessed the power of fashioning intract- 
able marble into life-like form and attitudes ; the other 
could make his conceptions visible on the canvas. I 
own an engraving from one of the pictures of Mr. 
Mayer which I value highly, both on -account of its 
subject and its handling. It is called ' The Thunder- 
dance of the Dacotahs.' A part of the ceremony con- 
sists in Indian warriors riding full tilt and in full, cos- 
tume round a wide circle, inside of which are tents and 



77/ r. Add is o n it c u u i o n Fa j) e r s . 1139 

dancers. It is founded upon one of those Indian myths 
which to me are even more interesting than the classic 
ones of ancient Greece. I hope your brother will some 
day embody some of them in sculpture. To one who 
can execute the w^ar-dance with guch spirit, and who 
loves to w'ork with an Indian bow and arrow beside 
him, such, subjects must possess much fascination." 

" I am sure of it," answered the Captain. 

" Fortunately for the entertainment of my artistic 
visitors, I had in my house a copy of Flaxman's lilus-^ 
trations of Dante. Thes^ partake somewhat of the nature 
both of sculpture and drawing, inasmuch as the clear 
outlines of figures are given without shading. As the 
work is not very common, it became an attractive object 
of study to both of them. It would b'e well for every 
man to have as many objects of art in his house as pos- 
sible ; such as pictures, statues, stereoscopic photographs, 
and the like. If he is not wealthy enough to possess 
the originals, it is a great satisfaction to own good 
copies in the form of engravings, plaster-casts, or repre- 
sentations of celebrated edifices in cork. Even rough 
wood-cuts of some world-renowned work of art are not 
without their charm. I happened to have one which 
pleased your brother extremely, because it called viv- 
idly to his recollection a masterpiece of sculpture he 
had seen in Italy." 

"What was it?" asked the Captain. 

" Giovanni di Bologna's marble group of the forcible 
abduction of the Sabine women. I wish you could see the 
original. It consists of three figures which rise one above 
the other by three successive gradations, so that in 
viewing it the eye mounts as it were by three consecu- 
tive steps ; and all three carved, life size, out of a 



240 Tlie Addison K en n io n Papers. 

single block of marble. The lov/est figure is that of 
an old bearded warrior, apparently thrown on his knees 
and looking upwards. The middle one, standing over 
the first, is that of a warrior in the prime of youthful 
vigor, bearing a Sabine maiden in his arms as though 
her weight were like that of a feather. The third 
figure — " 

" Is of course," said the Captain, " that of the maiden 
herself." 

" Yes, and she seems even younger than the youth 
who is bearing her ofif. She is a perfect model of 
female symmetry, and hangs as it were poised on his left 
shoulder, stretching out both arms as if crying for help. 
Her limbs are both tapering and rounded. Thus by 
three well-marked stages the eye travels up from old 
to young, from young to younger, from heavy to 
light, from light to lighter. It is like viewing the base, 
shaft, and capital of a fine Corinthian column. The old 
man is brawny and muscular ; the young one agile and 
lithe ; the maiden buoyant and graceful. I agreed 
with your brother at the time that nothing finer in its 
way can be found in Italy, or perhaps in the world, j 
say in its way, because some eyes are displeased with 
the perfectly nude, however well executed ; and on this 
account many prefer Canova's Venus to the celebra- 
ted Venus de Medicis." 

The Captain then spoke of one of his brother's works, 
the subject of which was a child falling to sleep on the 
margin of a stream in which she had been dropping 
flower after flower until overcome with slumber. 

Such was the substance of our talk beside those old 
marble quarries. Upon his kindly inviting us to his resi- 
dence, I again had to admire the beauty of the site and the 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 241 

graceful picturesqueness of all the surroundings. Seated 
in the parlor I examined the old family Bible, from which 
I copied a record of the birth of him on whose account I 
had made the pilgrimage. The Captain then showed me 
a photograph of his company taken whilst they were sta- 
tioned at Culpepper in Virginia. Forty-four were all 
that remained of the full number ; before the war closed 
they had dwindled down to twenty. He also called 
my attention to a photograph of the sculptor taken 
many years since I had last seen him: His personal 
appearance, though fine before, seemed to me to have 
improved during the interval. Sculptors are, I think, 
apt to be long-lived ; at least it would seem so from their 
biographies. And as a tendency to longevity is well 
known to be inherited, the gentleman concerning whom 
we have been writing stands a fair chance in that par- 
ticular. His father is now seventy-eight, and for the 
last seven years has enjoyed finer health than he did 
for twenty years previous. The mother also lived to a 
good old age. We saw her photograph hanging above 
some beautiful butterflies, emblems among the ancient 
Greeks of the human soul. These were carefully pre- 
pared and placed in handsome frames ; and as I admire 
objects of nature- when used as parlor ornaments, I was 
particularly pleased with the sight of them. It seemed 
to me that the likeness of the mother of the family 
hung there in very good company. Her maiden name 
was Snader. I was struck with the breadth and fine 
formation of her forehead. No doubt her marble bust 
by the son will be precious not only as a memorial but 
as a work of art. 

In returning home, my companion and myself were 
for a second time struck by an object which earlier in 
' 12 



242 Til c A d d I son Re u iiio a Fa pcrs. 

the day had attracted our attention. Near the door of 
a small house stood a pear-tree which was loaded with 
fruit, and at the same time with a profusion of hlassoms. 
This may be a sight which is not of infrequent occur- 
rence, but one which neither of us had before witnessed. 

" Behold," I said, " what appears to be a fit type of 
the genius whose birth-place we have been visiting. 
His statues and busts already produced are the fruit ; 
but fresh blossoms hang at the same time on the boughs, 
and others will bloom next spring, and still more and 
more fruit will 'come to maturity autumn after autumn. 
So may it turn out. Do you knov/ what I should like to 
see him engaged upon ? I will tell you. Ofi a statue 
of Christopher Columbus." 

"And how," said my companion, "would you like 
to see him represented ? " 

" On the deck of the vessel on which he discovered a 
new world — at least so the spectator should be led 
to imagine — and at that point of time when he first 
caught sight of land. And on the four sides of the 
base or pedestal should be bas-reliefs depicting four 
of the principal events of the great navigator's life." 



TJte Addison Reunion Papers. 243 



ARIADNE. 

Lost in the cold gray twiliglit, 
Alone in tlie midnight deep, 
My anguished soul is fettered 

By a hideous nightmare sleep ; 
By the fever-haunted horror 
That walks with my vagrant dreams, 
Hand in hand, 
In a blasted land, 
Where never the morning gleams. 

Far off in the black remoteness 

A sweet voice calls to me. 
And I hear in the tempest's sullen surge 

The murmur of the sea ; 
And a dim mirage arises ; 
The tall palms beckon and shine, 
Steeped in the balm 
Of eternal calm, 
And fringed wi.th the rolling brine. 

But ever athwart the midnight, 

And the twilight's ghastly glare. 
The sorrowful grace of a banished face 

Leans out of the fathomless air ; 
And my spirit writhes in torment 
Under the weird dark eyes : 
The vain desire 
That feeds the fire 
Of the worm that never dies. 



244 Tit c A d d }. a o a U e u n I o u Pap ers. 

And soft in the west wind's v;hisper, 

And sweet in the south wind's moan, 
I hear forever the echo 

Of an unforgotten tone : 
Low, and tender, and thrilling. 
It plains in the silence dim : 
" Ah, never again ! " 
Like the sad refrain 
. Of a wailing funeral hymn. 

And I know by the sleepless longing, 

. The fever of vain regrets. 

That mine is the love that eternally loves, 
And the sorrow that never forgets : 

And oh ! for the thwarted purposes, 

And woe ! for the squandered years ; 
For the burden and crosses. 
The needs and the losses, 

That are written in v/oman's tears. 

Worn with the fruitless anguish 
Of the wasting canker, Care, 
What is there left of the shipwrecked years 

But to fly from my long despair ? 
And hoarse on the spectral silence 
Comes up a wild sea-roar : 

The foam and dash, 
And the torrent crash 
Of waves on a beaten shore. 

And out of the mist and darkness 

The sweet voice calls to me : . 
H.e comes — my blue-eyed Theseus, 



Tlic Addison Reunion Papers. 245 

My tawny-haired King of the Sea. 
And down from the wild white Northland 
The fetterless gales are hurled, 

That shall bear us afar, 

Under storm and star, 
To the azure rim of. the world. 

Emma Alice Browne. 



24G • The Addison Reunion Papers. 



CHOLULA; OR, THE INDIAN SIBYL. 
A Ballad. 

Captain John Smith, in giving an account of the Indians of 
Virginia, in a work published in 1584, says, in the quaint lan- 
guage and uncouth spelling of his day : "In each eare they 
have commonly three great holes, whereat they hung chaines, 
bracelets or copper. Some of the men weare in these holes, a 
small green and yellow-coloured snake, about halfe a yarde 
in length, which, crawling and lapping itselfe about his necke, 
oftentimes familiarly would kiss his lippes," &c. These snakes 
probably belonged to that harmless kind of which many 
examples are found in each hemisphere. La Cepede tells us 
of a green and yellow viper which "allows itself to be twisted 
round the arms or neck, without showing any symptoms of 
anger. It seems even pleased to be thus teased and played 
with by its masters. The smallness of its size, the beauty of 
its colors, the gentleness of its motions, and the innocence of 
its disposition, inspire the Indians with a fondness for it." 
Notwithstanding such high authority, however, I cannot help 
thinking that there is a natural and instinctive dread of and 
aversion to the whole serpent tribe which can never be com- 
pletely overcome. 

She wlioni the new moon saw as bride 
Was widow in that same moon's wane ; 

Her heart's first love in battle died ; 
Cholula never smiled again. 

An hour she sat without a tear 

Beside the stiffened corpse, I ween ; 



. The Addison Reunion lapersi. 247 

Then slowly from each clay- cold ear 
She took a snake of vivid green. 

Cholala's ears have rosy tips, 

From which hang pearl and precious stone ; 
" These now," she cried, " must feel eclipse ; 

My ear-rings now be snakes alone. 

*' Come, coil about my heaving heart, 

Come, nestle in this long black hair ; 
And where my lips prophetic part, 
• Red, quivering serpent-tongues be there." 

Then oft along the dizzy verge 

Of that tall bridge by Natare reared, 

She sang her hero's funeral dirge, 

'Midst wailing v;inds and echoes weird. 

Oft to Weyer's magic cave she hies, 

Where heave tall shaft and crystal spar. 

And onward there, with Sibyl-eyes, • 
Without a torch she wanders far. 

Sorrow had sharpened so her sight, 

The future on her vision breaks, 
And thronging red men with affright 

View that young Sibyl with her snakes. 

For who would press the lips, though red, 
Where toying serpents have been seen. 

Or who caress the lovely head 

Round which those tangled coils have been ? 



248 The Addison. Re^inion Faj^crs. 

By Shenandoah long she roams, 

And by Potomac's broader tide, 
Till plunging where his cataract foams 

Adown the cliff, Cholula died. 

Thos. E. Van Bebber. 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 249 



CLOSING ENTERTAINMENT. 

Irving, m his Life of Washington, tells us of a 
famous Indian chief named Montour. This chieftain 
flourished in Colonial times, and led his warriors into the 
fight when Washington was but a Virginia Colonel, and 
Braddock, sent by George II., came over to the " back- 
woods of Maryland and Pennsylvania " to drive the 
French from their strongholds on the banks of the 
Ohio. 

Now it happens that in the town of Westminster, 
Carroll county, Maryland, we have a hotel bearing the 
name of this famous chieftain Montour ; but whether 
this hotel was so named because of the admiration of 
its owner for this noted Indian, or because, as tradition 
has it, that on one occasion while he was journeying 
through Pennsylvania, weary and travel- worn, he 
stopped at an inn named Montour, and found as cheery 
a welcome as did Tom Smart of Pichwich memory, and 
determined in a philanthropic spirit to provide as 
pleasant a home for the traveller in his own town of 
Westminster, I cannot tell ; nor is it material at this mo- 
ment what reason induced the building or the naming of 
the " Montour House." The legend is introduced only 
for the sake of history. Well, in the town aforesaid 
as the lav/yers say, and at the hotel aforesaid, named 
as aforesaid, and possibly for one of the reasons afore- 
said, or for some other reason — who knows ? — con- 
vened on the evening of the ninth day of June, 1871, the 

"Addison Eednion." 

This Association, whose object is to blend a social with 
11* 



250 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

a literary recreation, though having its origin but a 
few months ago in the minds of a small number of en- 
thusiasts who felt the necessity of an organisation as 
a stimulant to their development, has already grown 
and prospered much beyond the original ideas of its 
founders. Its salutary influence in our city has not 
only been seen but felt. The fact of its being composed 
of ladies as well as gentlemen has given it a popu- 
larity that it would not otherwise have attained ; for 
the clannish " clubs " of the one and the " Sorosis " of 
the other sex, are both oftentimes the subjects of severe 
criticism ; but who could object to a " circle " whose 
doors are thrown open to the meritorious of both 
sexes, where the sparkling v/it and the keen repartee, 
as also the learned dissertation, find their applauding 
echoes in the heart ? Such was the general favor in 
which this Association was held that its closing enter- 
tainment for the summer was the favorite theme in the 
quiet town for weeks before the grand, event was to 
come off. We were kindly sent an invitation, and as 
it is our motto in life never to miss a good thing when 
not ofiered grudgingly, we determined at once to ao- 
cept it. Of course there were many flutterings in the 
heart-region ere the eventful evening arrived ; but at 
last it did come, and our enthusiasm was at its height. 
On our arrival at the scene of the festivities, we were 
met by the Keception Committee, consisting of a 
.couple of gay Addisonians, one of whom pointed out 
to us the sacred apartment where the angelic portion 
of the company remove their wraps, shake out their 
flowing draperies, smooth their ringlets, and adjust 
their bracelets, or in other words, are supposed to try 
their wings before pluming them for flight to the draw- 



T h c A d lI I ^ n It Reunion Pa p e r s . 25 1 

ing-room. Another took possession of our escort and 
Lurried him off to a room just opposite. As the door 
opened for a moment to admit him, we caught a glimpse 
of the interior which amused us exceedingly. There 
were a number of gentlemen assembled, to all appear- 
ances for the purpose of undergoing martyrdom. 
Some were pacing the floor with the look of men about 
to be led to instant execution; some v/ere tugging 
at their neckties or jerking down their vests in the 
vain hope of presenting an unwrinkled front to the 
company ; others stood staring at themselves in the 
glass, while others still were secretly practising a kill- 
ing look or two, intended for the wholesale slaughter of 
the unsuspecting fair ones below. One group stood 
near the door talking loudly and laughing themselves 
red in the face at airy nothings. 

But this uncomfortable state of things could not last 
long. Several of the most miserable left the room and 
waited modestly in the hall. Out flattered a bevy of 
belles on the instant, and were convoyed off to the 
parlor. This was repeated several times, and then 
lively sounds, soft laughter, and the subdued murmur 
of conversation, mingled with sweet — 

''Notes from a tender piano up-flung " — 

came floating up the stair and stirred the hearts of the 
listeners. We had remained longer than was necessary 
to see what was to become of three fair creatures who 
were beginning to wonder at the delay of their gallants; 
but at last we too descended and made our way to the 
salon, leaving the ladies above-mentioned in a state 
of impatient anxiety, to say the least of it. A few 
minutes elapsed, when there was a sound of suppressed 



252 7' ]i e A d diso n 11 tun ion Fa pers , 

•laughter in tlie hall, and with eyes brimming over 
with mischief and cheeks dimpling roguishly, the 
three damsels tripped into the room and were soon 
provided with seats. In a very short time it was 
buzzed about that their escorts had consumed a full 
half-hour in their own dressing-room; and the impa- 
tient belles, fired with the independent spirit of the 
age, determined to brave the ordeal of joining the 
company unattended. Now every eye was directed 
towards the entrance. The grand entree of the delin- 
quents was momentarily looked for. At last a sound 
of footsteps was heard without — a considerable cough- 
ing, with every now and then a whisper covered by a 
severe clearing of the throat in a deep bass; the bach- 
elors v/ere evidently meditating a desertion ; but one, 
bolder than the rest, proposed the charge, and in they 
marched with grave countenances and irreproachable 
neck-ties, yet withal much disconcerted to discover 
their ladies quite at their ease and already surrounded 
by a host of attendants. After the amusement occa- 
sioned by this little episode had subsided, and a short 
interval more was consumed in the usual chatting 
and exchanging of congratulations among friends, the 
worthy and efficient President of the "Keunion" arose 
with the announcement that the programme on this 
their last meeting for the season was not to differ ma- 
terially from the others, but that the objects of the 
Association were to be remembered by a judicious in- 
termingling of the literary with its social elements; 
whereupon he introduced a gentleman who gave us a 
recitation in his own effective style, entitled " Drift- 
ing." The poem was familiar to many of us, but never 
had it seemed more beautiful than on that occasion. 



Tli(i Addison Reunion Papers. 253 

The thrilling, musical voice of the speaker rang out 
clearly in some passages, and in others sank to a 
whispar full of feeling and pathos. This effort was 
succeeded by the reading of one of Mrs. Browning's 
exquisite poems, " Crowned and Wedded." It was 
enjoyed to the full by the "Circle," all of whom felt 
reverently that no selection could have better suited 
the sweet young reader, herself so like unto Mrs. 
Browning's ideal of a most womanly woman. The 
•finest compliment that could have been paid the read- 
ing was the perfect silence, the pause of full apprecia- 
tion that followed for a moment, but for a moment 
only, for almost immediately it was announced, that 

Dr. , a visitor, would entertain the society with *a 

piece from Saxe. His selection was '* Early Eising," 
a spicy little thing, and read inimitably. An^ ex- 
pression of keen approbation, in which the worthy 
President heartily joined, followed the close of this 
admirably rendered production. 

A few minutes were spent in music and conversation, 
when a brilliant little lady rose and read the following 
" Ehyme " to the President : — 

Lo ! Dr. Charles calls to his aid, 
His verse to read, a fair young. maid, 
Hoping from other lips to get 
The unction that it lacked as yet. 
Dear Dr. Charles, thou canst not spare 
From off thy head one lock of hair ! 
And much we fear this awful strain 
. Upon thy locks and on thy brain ; 
For oh ! the labor must be great 
Such awful satire to create ! 



254 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

Look at thy brow's unseemly lines, 
And cease, I pray, thy wondrous rhymes. 
How many smiles then, may I ask, 
Gives "Not-a-Bit" for thy hard task? 
A kiss, unstolen though it be. 
Would surely prove a well-earned fee. 
A fainting maid thou wouldst not scare, 
For often in thy dental chair 
Thou seest such sights, and on thy arm 
Eeclines the fair without alarm. 
' It is thy business, at thy ease, 
To give the dears a gentle squeeze. 
• And he who, without slightest ruth 

Extracts a fair one's pearly tooth, 
Would never run from fainting girl, 
E'en though she voted him a churl. 

Last Monday night I scarcely knew 

How soon I'd have to challenge you ; 

I thought, this rhyme I'll make him rue : 

Will swords or pistols better do ? 

But to my mind there lately came 

A thought of much more peaceful frame ; 

How Luna (for 'twas through her aid 

His muse inspired the fainting raid) — 

How Luna clmnged awhile ago. 

And 8tole away his wits, you know. 

A moon-struck bard we'll let him stand, 

The spooniest champion in the land. 

This was read in spirited style, and occaeionecf much 
merriment 

Immediately following this came " The Mitrailleuse," 



Tlie. Addison Reunion Pajyers. 25i 

a poem well-named, for it poured forth indiscrimi- 
nately its shot, both grape and canister, upon the de- 
fenceless heads of the Addisonians. 

THE MITRAILLEUSE. 

Sweet Zephyrus, dallying 'mid the woven gloom 

And light, shakes down the locust's bland perfume ; 

Dropping a sudden shower of scented snow 

Beneath the careless feet that trip below, 

As with blithe jest, and laughter ringing clear 

Like fairy bells upon the charmed ear, 

Gay groups of youths and maidens wend their way, 

Gorgeously clad in fashion's rich array, 

Whither beneath the night's aupicious star 

The new Parnassus beckons from afar. 

Fair belles and brave gallants are gathered soon. 

Safe from the prying of the envious moon. 

To quaff the draught from springs Pierian drawn. 

Watched by the classic shade of Addison, 

Some by Ambition's burning thirst are won 

To sip the fabled wave of Helicon ; 

Some pant to show their versatility, 

And some the chignon's latest agony ; 

Some by insatiate dreams of conquest led, 

Make haste to the Olympian banquet spread, 

Where Cupid aids grave Pallas to control 

" The feast of Reason and the flow of Soul ; " 

A few their most becoming suits to air, 

And all because the beaux and belles are there. 

Upon the Jovian front Time's treacherous hand 
With ruthless wrinkles scarcely dares to brand, 
Genius and Wit and varied Wisdom blent, 



256 Tli e A d d i s o n R e u n ion 1 ^ap e r s . 

Mark for their own our atigusfc President. 

Smooth, jingling rhymes are his especial point ; 

And though the sense limps lamely, out of joint, 

His practised metres happily agree 

And trick the ear with pleasant euphony. 

Jealous of his prerogative of fame. 

The Bard with " D. D. S." tacked to his name, 

Flings his defiant challenge to the air, 

And makes Ids own the quarrels of the fair. 

On his demoralised Pegasus borne, 

Minus a wing of pristine mettle shorn. 

Empyrean flights his humorous fancies dare, 

And smite with caustic wit that scorns to spare 

The hold aspirant who in self-defence 

Takes up the brittle lance of weak '* pj;"etence/' 

Whilst owning his is not the poet's part, 

Nor is he skilled in Cupid's subtle art ; 

And though his feeble muse, grown rash, essay 

To point a moral or adorn a lay, 

Like the vain bird whose hundred Argus eyes 

Guard the bower of Juno from surprise. 

While balmy dreams weighed down her eye-lids sweet, 

His pride falls when he " scans his clumsy feet." 

Perchance, when Charles his 'prentice hand essayed 

To steal the thunders of the Bardic trade, 

The Fates were kind, or else the critics few. 

And so the callow poetaster grew. 

Changing somewhat the oft-repeated rule 

To spare the novice and to spoil the fool. 

A warning word, e'en to the super-wise 

Puffed up with vain pretention, may suffice : 



Tlie Addison Rciuiloii Faj^ers. 257 

Delays are dangerous, and woman's heart 
Will oft; elude the angler's subtlest art. 
Learn, Doctor, from past failure to beware, 
Nor pin your faith upon the fickle fair ; 
Lest while, as erst, your precious self-conceit 
Chains you in dalliance at your idol's feet, 
A readier hand the golden prize enclose. 
And bear it off, beneath your very nose. 

Flace aux da^yies ! (our threadbare French excuse) 
Room for the peerless maid, the modern Muse. 
Like Luna stooping from an envious cloud. 
She dawns on us, poetic, pale, and proud. 
Emma the blonde, a perfect honey " B," 
Whose barbed wit and ready repartee, 
Though breathed by ruby lips, too oft disclose 
The stinging thorn beneath the lovely rose. 
Though she abjures the aid of fashion's wiles. 
And trusts alone to natures lavish smiles. 
Yet nature's laws by vanity transgressed, 
Rebel, and lo ! the petty fraud confessed. 
Believe, fair " E," man's highest homage lends 
Unnumbered charms to her who least pretends ; 
Nor is his deepest admiration based 
On the slight tenure of a tortured waist. 
Mild, womanly, well versed, but not too wise, 
Her modest worth is talent's sweetest guise ; 
Content the lot of one she deigns to share. 
Nor burns a thousand conquered hearts to wear. 

Lo ! where the '* dead-heads " most do congregate, 
The Thespian Queen keeps her imperial state. 
The facile Emma G — — , whose soul of fire 



258 The Addison Reunion Faperfi. 

Thrills to the numbers of the tragic lyre ; 
"Who chains her shuddering audience, in brief, 
With phrenzied bursts of "Jfamac " mirth and grief, 
Or, sportive grown, anon, and debonnaire, 
Pours forth the woes of " Caudle" to the air. 
When first she glitters on our dazzled eyes. 
Like some strange, gorgeous Bird of Paradise, 
Mute with expectancy we pause to hear 
The witching strains born of another sphere ; 
Till, soft : the rosy lips unclose, and — well ? 
Some jarring discord snaps the magic spell. 
The vision proves, upon a nearer view, 
A vain, pretentious, noisy cockatoo. 

With saucy smiles, and ribbons all awry. 

Mirth in her face, defiance in her eye. 

Her Parthian shafts too oft at random flung, 

Our Mollie shines, the championess of tongue. 

Her ruddy locks proclaim her temperament, 

A spice of sugar with much acid blent, 

Smart, shrewd, and pungent; yet her errors spoil 

Her native grace. Too indolent to toil 

With head or hand, truth bids the critic tell 

Her faults are many, but become her well. 

" Sweets to the sweet ! " The gentle Fiddes takes 
The floor. His perturbed soul within him quakes ; 
Beneath the battery of sweet Carrie's eyes 
The last poor remnant of his courage dies — 
As once, when spiteful Fortune, haply blind, 
A maiden to his tender care consigned, 
A sudden terror winged his eager feet. 
He fled, and left her beauless in the street ! 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 259 

But gallant JVewson rallies to his aid, 
Bids him take heart, nor be so much afraid. 
The while with modest rivalry he tries 
To win approval from sweet Carrie's eyes. 

Blind to the v^^iles that would his heart ensnare, 

His " dreamful eyes " fixed in a vacant stare. 

His wits befogged in '^Drifting" ^'Clouds'' and mists, 

Behold the prince of elocutionists ! 

Perchance the " Kaven " he evokes may deign 

To change the burden of his weird refrain, 

And in the tickled ear of Tommie 

Prophetic croak the magical " Z). i)." 

Arnet and Hall, the famous charioteers, 
"Who late convoying home two pretty dears, 
With skill eccentric strewed the " Appian Way " 
With frightened girls, instead of rose and bay. 

The handsome George — he is a handsome man ; 

Deny it, envious rivals, "if you can; 

Oft hath his chosen friend, the mirror, shown 

That stalwart grace and beauty are his own. 

But George has faults, in common with his kind, 

Pampers the flesh at the expense of mind, 

Is fickle, vain, and prone to cultivate 

His moustache, while his brains are forced to wait. 

Novf, last and least, the virtuous Wellers claim 
To notice, though his most illustrious name 
The Muse may not ignore. His chiefest merit, 
She must confess, lies in his plucky spirit. 
Though he enjoys a jest, however rude,. 
If at another's cost, his jovial mood 



260 The Addli^on Reunion Pa2')eTs. 

With sudden spleen and gusty auger burns 
When 'gainst himself the shaft of satire turns. 
Like the immortal "Sam," he shines content 
With lustre borrowed from our President, 
The valorous champion, whom henceforth we dub 
The doughty ^^FicJcwich^' of our social club ! 

This reading occasioned quite an excitement among 
the unfortunates battered and bruised so unmercifully 
in this their first " baptism of fire." They attacked 
the poet 'in a body, and after a gallant charge fairly 
captured his literary artillery, thus placing him, as 
"they fondly imagined, hors die comhat for the balance 
of the evening. But they had " reckoned without their 
host," for repairing with his wounds to a fair little 
maiden who shall be nameless, she bound them so 
tenderly that he recovered sufficiently to fire a per- 
fect fusillade of "small arms" at the supper-table, in 
the form of speeches, toasts, &c. 

Supper being announced, the gay throng repaired to 
the large dining-hall of the hotel, which had been 
tastefully decorated for the occasion. Some genii had 
evidently been at work, and the effect was magical. 
Flowers in profusion were "expanding their light and 
soul-like wangs." A floral pyramid rose grandly in 
the centre of the table ; tender leaves and trailing 
vines were clinging everywhere, their brilliant hues 
heightened by the flood of gas-light pouring upon 
them from the numerous chandeliers. 

But my pen fails me when I attempt to describe the 
rare delicacies that were here collected. The snowy 
creams and glittering ices mingled harmoniously with 
the golden cake, and added to a scene that was already 



The A d dison Reaniu n Fa p c r s . 20 1 

oue of exquisite beauty and taste. Bon hons were as plen- 
tiful as hon-mots became later in the evening; whilst 
iced lemonade .and chocolate proved excellent substi- 
tutes for the ruby wine that is considered so essential 
a feature to the success of most of our popular enter- 
tainments. 

After full justice had been accorded the edibles, 
preparations were commenced for a " feast and flow " of 
another kind, inaugurated by the President, who, rising, 
reviewed briefly the origin and progress of the Associ- 
ation, welcomed us ^11 heartily to its festive board, and 
closing with an eloquent tribute to the ladies, called 
for the first regular toast of the evening. This was pro- 
posed by one of the most " Joe"-vial members of the 
Circle : 

" The Addison Eeunion. 

" May the interest of its members, and the popu- 
larity of the Eeunion, like the fame and the virtue of the 
illustrious Addison, never grow less. Believing that 
he did a noble work in his age, in giving modesty and 
delicacy to English wit, let us strive in our weekly re- 
unions to emulate his refining example." 

To this sentiment the author of " The Mitrailleuse," 
after an appropriate salutation, made the following 
reply : 

" It is proper in replying to this toast, at this our 
first closing entertainment, to allude to the inaugura- 
tion of our Society. The want of such means of enjoy- 
ment had been felt here for some time, and various at- 
tempts had, we believe, previously been made, but 
with indifferent or no success. During the latter part 



262 The Addison Reunion Pa2')crs. 

of the winter, a few ladies, known I believe to all of 
you, started this enterprise, and it is due mainly to 
their energy and perseverance that the Association has 
been successfully inaugurated. And just here, while on 
the subject of ladies, permit me to say that I am very 
apt, if not careful, to commit some extravagances ; for 
somehow or other my imagination runs riot, and I feel 
like growing eloquent, and calling on moon and stars 
and rainbows, and everything beautiful and lovely in 
nature, for parallels. But I regret to add that I usually 
end, both in speech and acts, in saying little and doing 
less. 

" Our meetings, which at first were slimly attended, 
soon became more popular, and the interest up to our 
last regular meeting was steadily increasing. In fact, 
I think every member will bear testimony that its 
meetings are looked forward to with great pleasure. 
In referring thus to our past gatherings, I hope every 
one will feel great reason to be encouraged to enter 
with renewed zeal, the coming autumn, into our pleas- 
ant literary and social entertainments, so that in the 
future it may be a source of pride and gratification 
to have been one of the original members of the 
'Addison Ee union.' You have done yourselves honor, 
ladies and gentlemen, in coupling the name of the 
gifted Addison with your Association. In naming this 
society the * Addison Eeunion,' you have taken one of 
England's purest and best literary characters; one 
who did more to elevate and purify the standard of 
literature than any one of his age, and whose writings 
to-day are sought eagerly by those who appreciate high- 
toned moral productions. In conclusion, allow me to 
commend for your example the writings and precepts 



The Add is 0)1 Reunion Papers. 203 

of this brilliant author; for if among the literati of 
the past there is one who feels sufficient interest in us 
to take an unbidden though welcome seat around our 
board to-night, and preside over our festivities, none 
so likely as the immortal author of the Spectator.'" 

Next iu the order of the. evening's programme, the 
ladies' favorite himself SiTOse, Siud in his most languid 
style, and with his sweetest lisp, said : 

" The duty which has been assigned me to-night of pro- 
posing a toast to the ladies of our Society, is so important 
and so much beyond my feeble abilities, that I sincerely 
wish for y0ur sakes it had fallen to the lot of some more 
competent member to discharge. If I only felt able 
to do justice to so fine a subject, I should be proud of 
this opportunity of showing my appreciation of these 
bright spirits, who have draped themselves in paniers 
and other millinery for our special benefit and delight, 
that we may not take them to be angels and so fear to 
approach them at all. 

" But, thus invested, we venture to share their com- 
pany ; and I only wish it was in my power to say what 
I feel as to the constant source of pleasure that com- 
pany of the ladies is to us coarser and rougher crea- 
tures. In every relation of life, what would we be 
without the ladies ? At home, at the dry-goods store, 
at the festival, in the sick chamber, and in the ball- 
room ; by moon-light alone, or by day-light in the 
crowd, they soften our tempers, relax our purse- 
strings, soothe our aching hours, refine our manners, and 
make us fall in love. But I must not forget that I am 
not to talk about the sex in general, but about those 
fair members of it whose presence has been the charm 



2G4 Tli G A dd is o n R c a a to n Pap e rs, 

of the meetings of our Association, and who grace this 
festive board with bright eyes and good appetites. 

" There are many literary circles or reading societies 
composed only of men, or only of ladies ; and the won- 
der with me is how such a stupid arrangement ever 
succeeds. If a reading circle composed exclusively of 
ladies confine its exercises entirely to poetry, and if 
one composed exclusively of gentlemen confine its ex- 
ercises to prose, I can see some propriety in the matter. 
But literature is made up of prose and poetry ; and it 
is the great good fortune of our Society that we com- 
bine the two in splendid harmony. We, the male 
members, furnish the prose element ; you, the ladies, 
are ever before us, the living, breathing embodiment 
of poetry. I therefore beg to propose as my toast — 

" The Ladies of the Addison Eeunion. 

" Without them we should be like David Oopperfield 
without his Agnes Wickfield." 

This was replied to con spirito by a fair one, in the 
following choice terms : 

" With 77iany voices in one to-night, I speak in ac- 
knowledgment of the loyal toast given to the ladies 
of the 'Addison Eeunion,' proposed by one of her 
most " EEESE-erve^^ " members, and drank by all of her 
worthy Bards. We feel that * where much is give?!, 
much is required.^ But we pray that from these 
weaker vessels, ye lords of wondrous magnanimity will 
require but a jot or tittle of all that you deserve, and of 
all that we feel. 

" The fear of success in his great duty need not have 
troubled the gentle-wa^i of the toast ; for had he not 



The Addison Reunion Fax>ers. 265 

seen proper to wreathe tlie name of woman witH 
immortelles of priceless worth, as he did, our high 
appreciation of just the slightest confession from his 
sex would have made us prize very much only a 
daisy wreath of esteem. But as it came so full and 
plenty, we accept it, and will keep it for a time of 
famine. 

" Imagination has much to do with.actual feeling ; and 
though our festooned paniers may seem to forbid the 
idea of their being angelic vestments, yet to add a 
feeling of great beauty to the Association which you 
seem already to so much prize, could you not be per- 
suaded, although the rushing you would have as a 
proof comes not, that the hustling which their draping 
folds beautify is a * thing of beauty and a joy forever,' 
and that it is not of the earth earthy, therefore might 
be called * wings.' 

** "We, like the gentleman of the toast, wish it were 
within our power to say what we feel as to the source 
of pleasure we find in the society of the gentlemen of 
the * Addison Reunion.' The ladies need not blush 
and murmur at this confession. If the gentlemen are 
noble enough to acknowledge a weakness, shall we 
show less nobleness by smothering the truth ? Let us 
ask, what would we be in the relations of life without 
the gentlemen ? At home we would have peace and 
quiet ; at the dry-goods store, all the finery we wanted ; 
in the ball-room, plenty of round dances ; by * moon- 
light alone,' — ah ! it wouldn't be fair to tell. 

" We assure you, gentlemen, all the ministrations of 

justice or iajustice which you have received at our 

hands during our shadowy reign in the Eeading Circle, 

have heen freely meted to you. What impressions we 

13 



266 The Addison Reiinion Papers > 

have made by our ^poetic nature^' we dare not limit. 
Who can tell what beautiful mists have been gathering 
about our circle, in silent power, as mighty forces work ? 
And when to-night's festive scenes are over, and we go 
forth as an unclasped^ not a IroTcen band, we may awake 
to the realisation that David Copperjield was as necessary 
io Agnes WicJcfield as Agnes Wickfield was to David 
Oopperfield. And^ we of us who may live to wear a 
crown of years, may look back through the haze of the 
past to the time when we were Agneses, but now 
Doras ; and about such memories the years of these 
pleasant associations may cluster, and the compliments 
of the toast to-night be not the least among them. 

"Ladies, I have but given a drop : will you not all rise 
as an echo of all your feelings ? Drink a toast to the 
gentlemen of the * Addison Heunion,' and as we raise 
the goblet J but not of the treacherous wine, we would 
assure you, gentlemen, that when we find you bearing 
the image of * God's noblest work, an honest man,' we 
prize you above ourselves." 

Third in order came the toast : 

" Our Worthy President ! 

"Dignified when he presides over the Reading Circle, 
fluttering when surrounded by crinoline, yet genial and 
social at all times. May the esteem which is the just 
due of worth, ever follow him like a shadow." 

This brought to his feet our gallant champion him- 
self, who in fitting terms and in his usually happy 
style, seasoned of course with the modesty for which 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 267 

the gentleman is proverbial, replied to the brief toast 
of the brief gentleman proposing it. 

Number four being now called for, a young man of 
commanding appearance, and with just the faintest sus- 
picion of a moustache, came briskly to the rescue, and 
gave with unction the following : 

"The Oontkibutors ! 

"By their masterly productions they have given evi- 
dence of superior talent, which needed but develop- 
ment to add lustre to their already enviable literary 
fame. May every step in life give to them new scenes 
of pleasure, and every advancement toward the great 
object of their ambition bring them true greatness.'' 

A young lady was appointed to reply to this ; but 
she, perhaps with a view to impress the Society with a 
sense of her great domestic qualifications, offered the 
table a very nice slice of buttered toast most temptingly 
prepared. It is needless to say that not one soul at 
table was deceived by this ruse of the fair one, or 
believed for a moment that she toasted it herself. A 
laugh went round the board, and one public-spirited 
-young man ventured to start an applause, but being 
almost immediately overcome by bashfulness, stopped 
suddenly and stared hard at everybody else, as much 
as to ask, who did that f 

Several impromptu toasts and addresses succeeded, 
one of which is deserving of special mention : 

" Mr, President : — I am not surprised at the unusual 
emotions which I experience in attempting to respond 
to the call with which I am honored, and I can 



268 Th e Addison Re w n to n Pap er s . 

only plead the high character which has marked the 
entertainment of the evening as an apology for any 
embarrassment which I may betray at the present 
moment. What has been said already has been said 
so fittingly and so well, that I should feel inclined to 
profit by the oft-repeated maxim, * Let well enough 
alone.' It will gratify me, however, if I can say a 
word in response to the pleasing sentiment which has 
been ofi'ered to the contributors of the Addison 
Reunion. 

" If I am to judge the contributions which have been 
given at your previous meetings by those which have 
been presented by the members of the Reunion this 
evening, I am ready at once to respond with an endorse- 
ment broad and unequivocal. I confess, however, that 
in the earlier part of the evening I felt some solicitude 
for the safety of the Association, as I heard the rapid 
discharges of the poetic mitrailleuse, and saw the effect 
of its unerring fire as it swept through your ranks ; and 
I was led to a mental discussion of the question, Is the 
inventor of such an instrument a benefactor of his 
race? But now that the smoke has passed away, and 
a soothing balm has healed all the wounds, we must 
admire the instrument itself and praise the skill of the 
gunner. 

" The pleasantries which have characterised this en- 
tertainment, and those which have preceded it, speak 
well for the contributors to the Reunion, and eloquently 
for the noble objects of the Reunion itself. Associa- 
tions such as this, organised for the purpose of literary 
culture, cannot but elevate and refine us. The great 
authors of the past and present are made to take their 
places in our midst. They talk to us in their choicest 



The Addison Reunion Papers. 269 

language, and convey to us their best ideas. We come 
to know them as we know our household friends ; and 
imbibing in a degree the spirit which moved them, we 
are led to turn our gaze upon heights to which genius 
alone can point. Who can follow the sublime imagin- 
ings of Blanco White, or view the vivid pictures of 
Leigh Hunt, or hear the dulcet notes of Mrs. Brown- 
ing s lute, without feeling that above him there is a 
clearer atmosphere and a purer realm of thought ? 
By bringing our minds into contact with the minds of 
the distinguished authors who have adorned literaturei 
ancient and modern, and by the process of literary 
training which we receive in such association as this, 
we are stimulated to move up toward those higher 
planes where the sun shines brighter and the flowers 
bloom with a rarer beauty. I cannot better illustrate 
the elevating power of such mental contact than by 
referring to the familiar yet beautiful lines of the 
gifted Addison himself, as he caught a language from 
the silent orbs of night : 

" What though, in solemn silence, all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
What though no real voice nor sound 
Amid the radiant orbs be found ? 
In Reason's ear ihey all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice ; 
Forever singing as they shine, 
The hand that made us is divine." 

The " wee sma' hours " were now upon us, and after 
a hearty vote of thanks to our host, the genial proprie- 
tor of the Montour House (may his shadow never grow 
less ! ), the mutual farewells were spoken, and we reluc- 
tantly prepared to separate. 

And so ended one of the most enjoyable evenings of 
our experience. Success to the "Addison Reunion !" It 
14 



270 The Addison Reunion Papers. 

has already won golden opinions far and near. Em- 
bracing within itself every element of a lasting pros- 
perity, may this estimable circle do more and more, 
as it has already done much, to fashion the literary 
taste of the community at large. 



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